


Vervain

by protectoroffaeries



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, F/F, Français | French, Friendship, High School, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mentions of Death, Modern Era, Morally Ambiguous Character, Romance, Romeo and Juliet References, Sexual Situations, Stabbing, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, Vampire AU, Vampire Diaries au, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-10-02 17:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectoroffaeries/pseuds/protectoroffaeries
Summary: "What the hell is vervain?" John asks.Mattie holds up a sprig of tiny purplish flowers. "I think that's what this is.""According to my grandmother, it wards off vampires. Burns them," Herc says.Vampires, thinks John, yeah, right.





	1. John

**Author's Note:**

> vampire diaries au
> 
> I'm like three seasons behind on the vampire diaries but I heard that the series finale was like last night maybe? but I had this idea like two months ago I just forgot to write it down until now
> 
> I don't normally write stuff like this with the romance and the drama but I thought I'd give it a shot ~ I took some (ok a lot of) liberties with vampire diary plotlines but if u r familiar with the show u might have some idea what's gonna happen before people who haven't seen it do
> 
> hope y'all enjoy!

“I still hate this place,” John Laurens grumbles, and Herc Mulligan hands him a coffee, like that'll pacify him. It does, a little. John takes a sip of the coffee - some sort of frou-frou latte - and maybe it's just the idea of  _ caffeine  _ that does it, but John feels slightly less grumpy. Not a lot less, but maybe that'll change by the time he gets to the bottom of his drink.

The hated place in question is, of course, the high school, Liberty High. First day of senior year. John's not excited. Herc doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic, either, but he's always been better at controlling his bitching than John.

“I know you do,” Herc says, “that's why I brought you the latte.” He takes a sip of his own drink, which is probably just straight black coffee, because Herc doesn't need a million sweeteners and flavorings to stomach it like John does. 

Herc has been John's best friend since he had the misfortune of moving to their sleepy Southern town in middle school. They've been hanging out for six years now; Herc would have to be an idiot not to notice John's burning hatred of school.

It's not like John is against education or anything - it's usually the teachers he has a problem with. Or his fellow students, some of which like to start shit. It's a hassle, really, keeping everyone in a small town happy and playing nice. A hassle that intensifies when he has to see his asshole neighbors every day.

“You're the only one who cares about me,” John declares dramatically.

Herc rolls his eyes. “Don't let Mattie hear you say that.”

Mattie Manning is another of John's friends - and also his ex-girlfriend. They didn't work out, though, because as it turns out, John is fucking gay, but Mattie was surprisingly understanding about the whole thing. John thinks that his friends realized that he was gay before  _ he  _ did, which is a little unnerving, but at least it took the shock and fanfare out of coming out.

Well. There was  _ one  _ shock, and it was that Maria Lewis, the fourth member of their friend quartet, blurted that she's a lesbian while  _ he _ was in the middle of coming out. John hadn’t seen that coming, but in retrospect, he thinks Mattie and Herc knew about that, too. Why the straight people have better Gaydar than him, he doesn't know, but he hopes that one day they'll use their powers to set him up with a hot guy.

As if Herc's comment summoned her, Mattie appears in front of them as soon as they walk through Liberty's double doors. She has Maria in tow, although Maria looks distracted.

John follows Maria's gaze - and, yep, she's staring at one of the Schuyler sisters again. There are three Schuyler sisters, daughters to the wealthy Philip Schuyler, who spends most of his time out of town for work (which is something political, if John remembers right).

The oldest is Angelica; John doesn't know her that well, beyond the fact that she's a fellow senior, but Mattie’s described her as a “stone-cold bitch” more than once. She has a reputation for sleeping around, too, although that's the gossip that preppy moms spread about half the girls in town. John's sure he's heard the same rumor about Maria, and he knows that she's a virgin.

The one Maria has her eye on is the middle sister, Eliza. She's a junior, and according to Maria, she's very kind and sweet, if not a little shy. Again, John doesn't know her beyond the school gossip, which mostly just calls her a prude. The gossip never has anything nice to say about girls, now that John thinks about it. There's always one group that  _ has _ to talk shit.

Their younger sister is in middle school; John thinks she's in the same grade as his brother, Henry, which would make her an eighth grader. Her name's Peggy, he thinks. John hasn't heard any gossip about her yet. Maybe they're holding off until she's in high school to drag her.

“Earth to Maria?” Mattie teases as she snatches John's latte from him and takes a sip. He can't bring himself to protest; he's always eating whatever garbage she has on her, usually potato chips.

“What? Oh. Sorry,” mumbles Maria. She tries to play off her staring by taking John's latte - which is now apparently  _ the community's _ latte - and sipping it. But Maria doesn't like the flavor of coffee at all, and not even all the frou-frou of the latte stops her from grimacing at the taste.

“It's alright, she's cute,” Herc says, ever the diplomatic one. He even does her the favor of ignoring her grimace, while John and Mattie giggle like the dicks they are.

“Yeah…” says Maria, “It's just… do you guys think… she could be like… not straight?”

John opens his mouth to say he doesn't know her well enough to guess on that, but Herc and Mattie must think it's Roast John Day or something because he gets about a syllable out before they jump in:

“I wouldn't trust John's opinion; he thinks everyone’s straight,” Herc teases, giving John a little nudge with his shoulder. John kindly flips him off in return.

“Himself included,” Mattie says, grinning, as she takes the latte back from Maria. John's starting to think he's never getting that back.

“What did I do to deserve this treatment?” John asks. “You all act like you've never been confused before, like you were born knowing everything about yourselves.”

“Yeah, actually I was,” Herc says far too seriously, but there's a glimmer of amusement in his eye.

“Pretty much,” agrees Maria.

“Hate to break it to you, but you're the weirdo,” Mattie tells him, and then she adds, “also you're out of coffee.”

John sighs. “You're welcome.”

“I bought it,” Herc says pointedly.

“Well, thank you both for your generosity. I'll buy lunch today,” Mattie says, like she didn't  _ hijack _ the latte. John isn't too broken up over it, though. Mattie doesn't go cheap on them when she buys lunch. She's good like that. They'll probably have a fast-food feast.

“But for now,” Mattie continues, “what do you guys have first period?”

John shoves his hand in his pocket and digs out his schedule, which is lined with wrinkles and folds when he finally gets it to where he can read it. “Uh, Studio Art,” he says, and okay, he likes art classes. Liberty High is easy to hate, but there are some positives.

“Ah, fuck, I have Physics,” Maria complains. Why the fuck anyone would take Physics, John doesn't know.

“English,” says Herc, frowning at his own schedule, “with Mr. Howe. God, that guy is so pretentious.”

“Hey, we have first together, Herc,” Mattie says. “We should sit in the back and make fun of Howe’s dress sense all period.”

“He does make it too easy, doesn't he?” Herc murmurs with a disapproving shake of his head. The town gossip says that  _ Herc's  _ the gay one, what with his affinity for fashion and all of his female friends. Herc doesn't dispute the rumor, he says he doesn't feel like he has to prove his sexuality, and no one gives him trouble for it anyway. Herc could beat the shit out of any dicks that might consider starting something.

John wishes he didn't feel like he had to make an attempt to seem straight. But if a rumor sprung up that _John_ was gay, there's no telling how his dad would react. Except it'd definitely be _very bad_ for John. But John dated Mattie, and that seems to be enough to keep such a rumor away from him for now. The rumor about him is something like he's suicidal, which actually inspired his dad to be _concerned_ for once.

The first bell rings not long after their discussion on classes, so John and Maria part ways with Herc and Mattie, since English is on the first floor and art and science classes are on the second. Studio Art and Physics are across from each other, which is convenient, so John and Maria make plans to meet before second period. Maybe they can walk to that class together, too; John forgets to ask what she has next.

Classes are always boring day one. The teachers go over rules - as if they don't know the rules after twelve years of public school. John has had the Studio Art teacher before; she's a middle-aged woman named Miss Livingston, and she's a little eccentric, like all good art teachers are.

After first period, he walks downstairs with Maria, but they part ways immediately because he has World History, and she has Pre-Calc, and they're in opposite directions. On the bright side, he and Mattie have second period together.

After second period, they have lunch. Their school's on this weird-ass block schedule thing where they have each class for about eighty minutes every other day. First four periods one day (the “1” days), next three plus a study hall the next day (the “2” days). Seven classes total. Which means they get to pretend it's the first day again tomorrow. John doesn't know why they do it that way; he just knows it's really difficult to focus for eighty minutes at a time.

At lunch, they're allowed to leave campus, so the four of them pile into Herc's van - with Mattie calling  _ shotgun  _ like a bitch - and Herc drives them to McDonald's because Maria says she's craving a McFlurry.

On the drive over, Herc says, “Have any of you seen the new kids yet?”

John hasn't heard about any new kids, which is weird because there's town gossip about everyone and everything. Mattie sounds just as confused when she says, “Uh, no? What new kids?”

“One of them is in my Pre-Calc class,” Maria supplies. “He’s tall. And French.”

_ “French?” _ What the hell is a  _ French guy _ doing in their shitty town? Americans shouldn't even want to come here, but at least they have nationalistic bullshit as an excuse if they do.  

Maria nods. “French.”

“I just saw them in passing,” says Herc. “I heard they were brothers, but they don't really look alike.”

“Maybe they're half-brothers,” Mattie muses, “or adopted. Do we know their names?” Mattie is a social butterfly; John wouldn't be surprised if she tries to drag these two new boys into their group.

“The one in my class has a really long name,” says Maria, “but he said we could call him Lafayette.”

“Like the Revolutionary War hero?” asks Herc. John can't think of any Revolutionary War heroes besides George Washington off of the top of his head; Herc is such a nerd.

“I guess,” says Maria, and then she echoes John's thoughts by saying, “the only Revolutionary War hero I can remember is George Washington.”

Herc actually looks away from the road, turns around in his seat, and gives Maria a  _ look.  _ Luckily, there aren't any cars near them, or he could've caused an accident in his attempt to shame Maria for her lack of historical knowledge. John leans over and whispers that he was just thinking the same thing.

Herc must've heard him because he sighs heavily. “Neither of you can name any other Founding Fathers?”

“Not all of us are nerds, Herc,” John says.

“I am,” Mattie argues, “and being a Revolutionary War hero and a Founding Father aren't mutually exclusive.”

Herc snaps his fingers, which should really be on the steering wheel. “Beat at my own game.”

When they get to McDonald's, John gets a Big Mac and fries on Mattie's dime, Herc gets a couple double cheeseburgers, and Maria gets a giant box of chicken nuggets to go with her Oreo McFlurry. Mattie gets herself a grilled chicken salad and a water, which causes everyone else in the car plus the girl in the drive-thru to give her a look that says  _ you're seventeen, and you're at McDonald's, pull it together, Mattie.  _ Mattie ignores them.

She does smother her salad in ranch, though.

Herc drives them back to school, and they sit in his van and eat. Maria steals some of John's fries and dips them in her McFlurry because she's a freak of nature. Mattie caves and trades her water for a can of Mountain Dew out of the huge case of it that Herc keeps in the backseat. John is still hungry after the Big Mac, which makes him consider actually eating breakfast tomorrow.

They're almost finished with lunch when Maria leans across John and points out the window: “There they are!”

“What?” says John, looking around her to see what the fuss is.

“The new kids,” Herc says by way of explanation.

John looks at the new kids. The tall one, Lafayette, isn't bad looking. His hair is pulled back off his face, he has a bit of a beard growing, and he has a bright smile on his face. His clothes are a little fancier than what most people would wear to school, khaki pants in place of jeans, but they work on him, and John can tell that he works out.

He has nothing on his brother or friend or whatever their relationship is, though,  _ holy shit. _

The other guy is short, shorter than John even. He has jet black hair that falls around his shoulders, and his skin is a couple shades lighter than his companion's, more of an olive tone than a tan. He has an annoyed little pout on his lips, and John suddenly has the very gay urge to kiss it away, which is kind of embarrassing. He's wearing a hoodie, even though it's September and not hoodie weather yet, and some jeans - he, at least, got the memo that he's in high school. John takes a second look at those jeans, and yes, they are skinny jeans, and yes, that boy has some thick thighs and a nice ass that are trying to get out of them.

_ Holy shit. _

“John, are you okay?” Maria asks, and John drags his eyes away from the cute new guy to find that all of his friends are staring at him.

Mattie grins an evil little grin. “John  _ likes _ one of them.” John huffs because really, they're not in elementary school anymore.

“The tall one? Lafayette?” guesses Herc.

“No,” John says, looking out the window again. By now, Lafayette and his fucking hot brother/friend/whatever have almost walked out of sight.

“The short one, then,” Mattie says, “he  _ does  _ look feisty.” She isn't wrong. That pout...

John glares at her, and she laughs. “Don't worry, John, we could all hear you mentally calling dibs as soon as you looked out the window.”

“I hope he's gay,” Maria says sincerely. She has more than one reason to hope that he's gay - hell, she probably hopes they're both gay - and some of them are selfish, but John can appreciate the comment all the same.

“Yeah,” murmurs John, “me too.”


	2. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally update this quickly but my friend drew me vampire!alex in booty shorts and I was so happy so I wrote more 
> 
> thanks to everyone who left comments on the last chapter ~ I love and cherish every single one

Alex Hamilton likes high school. It's easy, especially since he's already received his diploma a few times. He could complete all four years in his sleep at this point. Not that he's ever been able to pass a freshman. But he returns as a junior or a senior every couple decades or so, along with Lafayette, because being young is fun, and they never got to have a lot of fun when they were actual human teenagers. They were too busy fight for survival and freedom and all that good shit.

He and Lafayette used to spend most of their time in big cities: NYC, Chicago, Detroit, etcetera, etcetera. It's easier to hide in big cities, and there's more food, which are two important considerations for their kind. But Lafayette has always wanted to live in a small town, he's bitched about it for a good half a century now, and so they pick the little town of Liberty, Virginia to settle down in. It's just a couple hours from His Excellency’s beloved Mount Vernon, and while the General isn't there, Alex and Lafayette both feel better knowing his land is nearby.

Liberty is far enough off the radar that Alex could probably get away with murdering everyone in this one horse town - the population is maybe five hundred, maximum - if he has to, and that was another compelling reason to pick it.

If Alex gets his way, they'll only stay here until the end of the school year. He'd like to go back to New York; he's been fond of the state since he stepped off the ship back when it was still a colony. Or maybe they'll go to France next; Lafayette sometimes becomes homesick himself.

“Alexander, are you listening to me?” Lafayette asks, accent thick. Lafayette has been speaking English for well over two hundred years now, but he's noticed that people like that damn accent, so he lays it on thick, especially when they're new to someplace. It takes all of Alex's willpower not to roll his eyes when  _ another _ person swoons over it. Americans are so easy.

“No.”

“I  _ said _ that I saw someone who looks like Jack Laurens,” Lafayette repeats. “But if you are not interested in such information…”

Alex frowns. Lafayette can be an asshole sometimes, and Alex deserves it because he's even more of an asshole, but this seems like it's a little much. “Jack is dead.”

Jack was… a dear friend to Alex and Lafayette, back during the Revolution. He was human, though, and humans have a tendency to die. Riddling them with bullets tends to speed up the process.

_ “Oui,  _ I am aware,” Lafayette says in that annoying  _ duh  _ tone that grates on Alex's nerves unless he's the one using it. “I did not say I saw him. I said I saw someone who looked like him.”

Alex is trying not to become annoyed with Lafayette, but he’s admittedly pretty bad at controlling his irritation. “People look like other people all the time, Laf.”

“This resemblance is so striking that I felt the need to warn you in advance,” Lafayette says, “that is all,  _ mon ami,  _ do not get testy.” He puts his hands up in a defensive gesture.

Alex grumbles something about being a grown-ass man who can handle himself, and they drop the subject in favor of going to class. Alex has US History and US Government back-to-back first and second period, mostly because he likes to hear about himself, and then about some of friends he's made throughout the United States’ brief history. Lafayette claims that it's boring to hear secondhand about things that they were present for, so he has Statistics and Pre-Calc for his first two periods. It's a little surprising, and a lot weird, but Lafayette enjoys math. Although, Stats isn't all that math-y if Alex remembers correctly. It was the only math class he excelled at for a reason.

Alex and Lafayette meet up at lunch and walk across the street to a little mom-and-pop sandwich shop. They order some sandwiches, but they have their real lunches in thermoses. Alex prefers his blood straight from the vein - it tastes better that way - but in a town like this he can't just  _ feed.  _ If he wants a fresh meal, he'll have to plan it.

Lafayette gives him a pointed look until he takes a few bites from his sandwich. There's a reason they came over and ordered people food. Lafayette seems to think eating in public will give them credibility in case one of them (read:  _ Alex)  _ does something risky and puts them under any suspension.

Alex has self-control, despite Lafayette's doubts. He was in class with humans all morning, and they smelled fucking tasty, but he ate  _ no one.  _ Lafayette should really give him a little more credit.

In fact, Alex has only eaten a classroom full of teenagers  _ once, _ and that was over fifty years ago now. And he was starving, hadn't eaten in days… but Alex supposes that just goes to show that one mistake can haunt for decades.

“You meet anyone interesting?” Alex asks as he picks at the sandwich.

“Yes, there is this girl in my Statistics class,” says Lafayette. “Her name is Angelica, and she is very intelligent. I believe you would like her.” He pauses for a moment and then adds, “Also, there was this girl in Pre-Calc that kept glancing at me, but she said nothing. I do not know her name, but perhaps she is interested.” He wiggles his eyebrows, like the absolute tool he is. Alex has never known Lafayette to sleep with anyone under the age of eighteen, as most high schoolers are, though. Well. Except his wife, back when they were  _ both  _ underage.

Lafayette practically invented the “waiting for adulthood” rule (which was obviously not always a rule) because he's horrified by the very idea of taking advantage of someone. Alex thinks it's noble of him. Very on par with his breeding.

“What about you?” Lafayette asks.

“Ah, no one really stood out.” Alex didn't see the Jack look-alike, either. Not that he'd admit to looking.

“You need to learn how to make friends,” Lafayette says, and he takes a bite of his sandwich. The fucker manages to look like actually enjoys that lettuce-filled disaster, too. Alex didn't even like lettuce when he was human.

Alex takes a long gulp from his thermos. The blood is cold; they have to keep it cold, or it'll go bad. Warm blood is so much better, though. 98.6° Fahrenheit? Perfect temperature.

Alex wonders how long it'll take for him to break down and drain one of the locals. He needs to start looking for someone who could go missing without raising too much alarm.

After lunch, Alex and Lafayette walk back to school. They go to their afternoon classes - Alex to English third period, Lafayette to Chemistry third period, both of them to Psychology fourth period. Alex is excited to take Psychology, although he thinks it's probably more thoroughly explained at the university level. Maybe he'll an advanced course next year.

One of the fun things about going back to school is seeing how the curriculum varies from decade to decade and from place to place. Alex can write with the best of them; he’s written papers on his  _ own _ papers. But he takes the standard English course for seniors every time he comes back to school because he likes to see the evolution.

And, okay, because he likes to  _ wow _ English teachers.

When the final bell rings, Alex meanders to the front hall, waiting for Lafayette to come meet him. He checks his phone - awesome invention, by the way, he's only had cell phones for about fifteen years, and he doesn't know what he'd do without one - and finds that he has no messages. He pockets it, and he starts to tap his foot impatiently, wondering where the hell Lafayette disappeared to.  _ “I have to run to my locker, mon petit ami, I will only be a moment,”  _ Lafayette said. Only a moment. Yeah, right. Asshole.

Alex should've gone with him. He's probably been distracted by one of his little admirers.

He leans against the wall so some kids can push past him and out the door. He watches them, listens idly to some of their conversations.His ears start to ring a little - humans are  _ so loud _ \- and none of them are talking about anything interesting. Just gossip about classmates, teachers, him and Laf.

And then, Alex sees him. The Jack look-alike. The resemblance is more than striking. It's - he could be Jack’s  _ identical twin.  _ Same curls, same freckles, same skin tone, same stupid roguish grin. But it’s more than that; he has the same build, the same bone structure, and Alex immediately wants to get closer so that he can see if the eyes are the same. He feels like someone's knocked the breath out of him, which is funny, because he hasn't breathed much for a good two centuries.

Jack’s look-alike is surrounded by his friends. He doesn't want to scare the boy, he wants to talk to him, wants to see if he has Jack's voice. But, he doesn't want to be creepy about it.

He takes a step toward their group, and some kid runs into him, so Alex has to fucking help the poor girl pick up all her papers - it's the first day, why does she have so many fucking papers? - and when he looks around again, Jack's look-alike is gone, and so is most of his posse.  _ Shit. _

There is one left though, a light-skinned girl with thick-framed glasses and short hair, so Alex scrambles over to her before she can get away. She gasps when he crowds into her space, probably getting ready to yell at him, but Alex looks her in the eye and murmurs, “Come outside with me.”

The girl’s eyes go glassy, and she follows Alex outside without protest. He leads her behind the school, feeling a little shady, but not enough to regret his choice. He looks her in eye again and says, “That boy you were with, the one with the curls and the freckles, what's his name?”

“John Laurens,” she replies hollowly.

_ Laurens.  _ Huh. Maybe they're distant relatives? Jack had siblings, Alex thinks, and a kid of his own. That doesn't account for the uncanny resemblance, though. It's been too many generations - Jack's modern relatives shouldn't look anything like him, if Alex remembers his biology correctly.

“How old is he?” Alex asks.

“Seventeen.”

Alex frowns. Lafayette’ll give him  _ hell _ if knows Alex is pursuing an underaged Jack Laurens look-alike. And then Alex's frown deepens, because when the fuck did he decide that he's going after that boy?

“Like, just turned seventeen or almost legal?” Alex asks.

“His birthday's next month,” says the girl in that same empty, flat tone.

Well. That should mean slightly  _ less _ shit from Lafayette, then. Not a lot less, though. Lafayette is a noble  _ dick. _

“And you're one of his friends, right? What's your name? How well do you know him?”

“We're friends,” she confirms, deadpan, “My name is Martha Manning. I know John well; we've been friends since elementary school. We used to date.”

_ Martha?  _ Alex hated that name when it was popular; he hopes it's not making some sort of comeback. And shit, John Laurens dated this  _ chick? _ Alex didn't consider that this Laurens might be straight.

“One, please tell me people don't call you  _ Martha,”  _ says Alex, because he's a bitch, and then, “two, is John straight?”

“People call me Mattie.”  _ Thank God.  _ “He’s gay; that's why we broke up.”

Alex starts to ask another question, but suddenly he sees Lafayette marching over to them, looking  _ pissed,  _ and he feels like he's been caught with his hands in the metaphorical cookie jar. “Don't run,” he tells Mattie, “stay right here until I tell you otherwise.”

Mattie gives him a blank look.

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing, Alexander?” Lafayette spits. There's a fury burning in Lafayette's eyes that makes Alex want to run and hide. He feels a little guilty, too, because Lafayette has put up with his shit for centuries, and Alex still hasn't managed to do anything Lafayette asks of him. Like not compel their fellow students.

“Uh, Mattie and I were just talking,” says Alex, “right, Mattie?”

“Yes,” Mattie says, but of course, Lafayette can tell by her tone that Alex compelled her.

“What did I say?” Lafayette snaps, like he's Alex's fucking mother or something.

“Don't compel the locals, mind control is rude, we can't afford anyone noticing gaps in their memories, some of them could be on vervain which would not only make said compulsions fail, but also give people reason to be suspicious of us,” Alex lists, counting off Lafayette's points on his fingers.

He doesn't see the point of not using his cool vampire mind control ability, which is, he might add, one of the best parts of being a fucking vampire. People have gaps in their memory all the time. People who take vervain - which is easily the most annoying plant on the planet, seriously, who would think a little weed can block compulsion and fucking  _ poison _ and  _ burn _ vampires? - are usually people that need to die anyway because they know too much.

“Who is this girl?” demands Lafayette, and then, as if he doesn't trust Alex to answer him honestly, he turns to Mattie and asks, “Who are you? What does he want with you?”

Mattie blinks. She glances at Alex. He didn't tell her not to talk to anyone, but Lafayette also didn't compel her to answer him. He wonders what's going on in her mind right now, but then, he also doesn't care because he plans to erase this entire conversation from her memory once Lafayette is done bitching.

“My name is Mattie,” she says, sounding confused, “uh, he was asking me about John?” She rubs her temples like she has a terrible headache that she's trying to ward off.

“Who is John?” demands Lafayette darkly.

“The Jack look-alike,” Alex says. He feels small. He  _ is  _ small, but he rarely feels that way. Such is the effect an angry/disappointed Laf has on him.

Lafayette gives him a look bordering on disbelief. Then he hangs his head, shaking it back and forth in slow disappointment. “I should have known that you would not be able to leave him alone. What are you planning, Alexander? Are you going to woo that poor boy? Bleed him dry?”

“And if I wanna do any of that? You gonna stop me?” Alex challenges. What can he say? He has a bad habit of lashing out when he's hit too close to home.

Lafayette stares at him for a long moment, expression unreadable.

“Do what you want, Alexander. But do not take me down with you.”

Then Lafayette walks away, leaving him with a dazed teenager and a fuckton of guilt.   



	3. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my cat, who kept putting his body between me and my phone and making it difficult to write
> 
> fun historical fact: Mary Eleanor Laurens really was nicknamed Polly. Not sure who gave her that nickname or why, tho

When school gets out, John meets up with his friends briefly before he goes to find his sister. Marth’s a junior this year, just a little over a year younger than John, and it's his job to drive her and all their other younger siblings home. Marth is leaning against the hood of his truck, which is nearly as old as her, but still in pretty good shape. It's a black truck, a Chevy something or another. It was a sixteenth birthday present from his father, not really his style, but John is grateful for it all the same. It gives him a bit of freedom.

John unlocks the truck as he's walking over to it, and Marth immediately climbs into the passenger seat, jamming her backpack in the space where her feet are meant to be. The truck gets pretty full once they pick up all the kids, so she can't just toss it in the back.

John gives less of a fuck about his stuff. He throws his backpack in the bed as he walks by, and then he hops into the driver's side.

“How was day one?” John asks casually as he starts up the truck.

“Fucking boring,” says Marth without batting an eye, “as per usual. But hey, I think Psychology's going to be fun.”

Marth is a lot like John in many ways. They look similar, although Marth has considerably less freckles, and most of her features are scaled down. Smaller nose, smaller ears, that sort of thing. But she's more like him in the way she acts; they have  _ no-fucks-given  _ attitudes half the time. They're both quick to anger and slow to think things through. They're fucking tough, too, if John does say so himself.

“Good,” John says, and the question bursts from him like he couldn't wait to ask it, although he didn't even know it was on the tip of his tongue: “Did you see the new guys?”

John tries to sound casual, but he can feel Marth's curious gaze on him as he pulls out of the high school's parking lot. The middle school is five minutes away, and it's connected to the elementary school, which is convenient. They can pick up all the kiddies in one swoop.

“Yeah, I met them,” she answers slowly. “They're in my Psych class.”

“They are?” John is thankful that he has to keep his gaze on the road. He doesn't want to be subjected to the scrutiny that Marth is certainly looking at him with. God, why can't he ever fucking play it cool?

“Yeah. Alex and Lafayette? They seem alright. They're half-brothers, I think they said,” Marth says with that note of puzzlement still coloring her words.

_ Alex.  _ So  _ that _ is the name of the unbelievably hot guy. John's pathetic, he really is, because he's only seen Alex once and yet his heart rate picks up just from remembering how Alex looked in those goddamn jeans. He grips the steering wheel tighter than necessary, tight enough to make his knuckles pale.  _ Pull it together,  _ he tells himself,  _ you only fucking  _ saw  _ the guy once. _

“John?” says Marth, “You alright?”

“I'm fine.”

“You're lying,” Marth insists. “I always know when you're lying, asshole.”

“Marth, I…” John sighs. What does it matter if he tells Marth? She's the only member of the family that he's out to, and she's made it clear that she gives zero fucks about who he wants to fuck. “It's the new guy, Alex. He's fucking hot, Marth.”

There's a beat of silence between them.

“Is he?” asks Marth. She sounds surprised, and for a moment, John wonders if his sister somehow went blind in the middle of the day. How could she not see it? Alex is the personification of  _ sexy.  _ John would let Alex have his way with him in a fucking heartbeat.

“Uh, yeah,” John says, “did you not see those skinny jeans?”

“Was he wearing skinny jeans?” muses Marth, and John legitimately cannot tell whether or not she's teasing him.

“Yes, he was, although it looked more like they were painted on than truly being  _ worn,” _ John says. He pulls into the middle school parking lot, bypassing the line of cars waiting for their turn to pick their kids up at the front door, and parks in his usual parking spot. Henry knows where to find them; he'll bring Jimmy and Polly. They have a routine.

“Just how long did you spend staring at his ass?” asks Marth, and okay, now she's undoubtedly teasing him.

“Not long enough,” replies John mournfully.

Marth cackles like she's the Wicked Witch of the West or some shit. Then she comments,“All I noticed was that he's short and loud.”

“The short are usually loud.”

“You would know,” she teases, as if she isn't a good four inches shorter than him. John rolls his eyes.

The kids wander over to the truck not long after that. Henry and Jimmy don't seem to be in any sort of hurry, but Polly runs up to the truck and climbs on the driver's side door, somehow gripping at the seams with her tiny fingers. John rolls down the window, and she crawls through it like the wild little monkey she is. Her Barbie-theme backpack smacks him in the face while she squirms, trying to find a comfortable seat on his lap, but John can't find it in him to be annoyed when she looks up at him with her joyful little-kid expression.

“Hey, Polly,” he says as he helps her take off the offending backpack and tosses it in the back. One of the boys will shove it under the seat, if they ever decide to get in. “How was your day?”

“Good,” says Polly. “I like my teacher, she's nice.” Polly's only in first grade; she'll be seven in December. John can't believe she's already in elementary school. He remembers the day she was born. She was early, too early, and there were complications. The doctors said she would be lucky to live twenty-four hours. As fate would have it, it was their  _ mother _ that didn't live to see the next sunrise.

John isn't a religious man. He used to go to church - the whole family did - but he doesn't know if there's a God, a Heaven or a Hell, or if he'll see his mother again someday. But… if there is a God, then John would bet that his mother spent her final hours begging Him to give Polly a chance. Maybe she traded her life for his sister's.

Or maybe John's feeling stupidly sentimental because Polly's sitting on his lap, all cute and happy and healthy.

She looks a bit like their mother, more so than John and Marth do. Polly has long, dark brown hair, but it's not particularly curly. Her skin, overall, is a little darker than his, although John can see patches on her arms where the tone's altogether inconsistent. There's no overwhelming amount of freckles coating her, either. John does think they have the same eyes - he thinks all five of them do, actually - which are hazely with bits of green.

“That's good,” John says, responding to Polly's comment about her new teacher. “Any of your friends in your class?”

“Yeah, Kitty is, but she sits across the room.”

The boys finally make it to the truck, and by the looks on their faces, John would've guessed they'd spent all day staring at the wall, what with the dead looks in their eyes. Henry's in his last year of middle school this year, which is a tough fucking time that John remembers all too well. Puberty and teen angst and that bullshit. Jimmy just started fifth grade; John doesn't get why  _ he's  _ so glum. School's fun until about sixth or seventh grade.

“You two alright?” John drawls, eyebrows raised as he looks back at them. Marth and Polly giggle.

“No,” says Jimmy meekly, just as Henry says, “Kill me now.”

Marth laughs even harder at that, but Polly's face scrunches up, confused and borderline upset. She's still wrapping her head around what it means to die. She's been asking about it a lot lately; she's been asking about their mother, too, now that John thinks it.

“Henry, don't say that,” John chastises. “What's wrong?”

“I got Mr. Cornwallis as my teacher,” mumbles Jimmy. “He's mean. There's no talking allow. We're just gonna do boring worksheets all year.” Oh. John didn't have Cornwallis back in the day. He had… some older lady. He can't remember her name, but she used to let them spend entire days reading. Huh, now that he thinks about it, maybe she got fired for that. Aren't they supposed to do a certain amount of math every day or something?

“That sucks,” John says awkwardly. He's not exactly known for his comforting demeanor. Besides, he's not sure there's anything that can be done about it. “Henry, what's wrong with you?”

“It’s nothing,” Henry mumbles. He's obviously lying, but John doesn't push it. He knows Henry well enough to know that if he pushes now, Henry’ll clam up and might never share. If he needs to vent, John's confident he'll seek someone out to listen.

John lifts Polly off his lap and onto Marth's. He knows the responsible thing to do would be to put her in her booster seat but, eh, the house is a minute away, and Marth's got her. They make it home without any problems, and his siblings pour out of the truck like it's a clown car.

John jumps out of the truck, and then he lifts Polly out, not because she can't get out herself, but because the sound of her giggling makes him smile like a fool. He loves his brothers, Henry and Jimmy are extremely important to him, but John's always had some special connection to his sisters. Maybe it's because he and Marth are close in age and Polly's the baby.

“Piggyback ride!” Polly shouts, but it's easier for him to put her on his shoulders, so he does that instead. She squeals in delight, digs her fingers into his hair. She's getting heavy, though; his shoulders strain a bit under her weight. She won't be getting too many more rides like this, unfortunately. But for today, John manages to carry her - and both their backpacks - into the house without overexerting himself.

Thankfully, Dad isn't home yet when they arrive; he usually isn't home until around six. Henry and Jimmy disappear to the game room right away, probably to kill each other in Call of Duty. Polly sits down at the table with a coloring book, and John gives her some pretzels and juice as a snack. Marth texts him from across the room, sends him a picture of him with Polly on his shoulders. It's a nice domestic afternoon routine they have going, easily flowing right into the new school year.

John's making himself a sandwich when he gets another text. This one isn't from Marth; it's from Mattie. All he can see is a line of exclamation points on his lock screen, so he's pretty damn curious as he types in the pass code.

As it turns out, he has like  _ five  _ texts from Mattie:

_ JOHN _

_ hOLY sHIT _

_ look who I talked to _

Yo Bad Bitch M  _ sent a picture. _

_!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!JOHN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _

The picture in question is a selfie in piss poor lighting, but John can still make out it. One of the people is Mattie, of course, but the other is  _ fucking hot guy Alex.  _ They're both grinning like they're old friends, and  _ fuck,  _ Alex is even better looking now that John can see his face.

_ What the fuck???  _ he sends back. Dibs, she said she was respecting his fucking  _ dibs. _

_ I ran into him after school, hes hella cool john I hope u date him,  _ she replies. 

John's about to respond with something snarky, ( _ I'm trying but it looks like YOURE already making a move!)  _ but then the three dots pop up, signifying that she has more to say.

_ I gave him ur # _

_ Y??  _ John wants to text the guy, he really does, but he also hasn't officially met him yet, so maybe that's jumping the gun.

_ bc he was flirting w/ me & said he didn't believe there was anyone prettier in this town & I being the great woman I am took the opportunity to say that I have the # of the prettiest boy in town & he did not seem deterred by the boy part so I gave him ur # tell me u love me _

John rereads  _ not deterred by the boy part  _ at least three times: _ ily _

John feels oddly giddy as he finishes making his sandwich. He tells himself to calm down, because Mattie has a reputation for being too optimistic about people's intents. Maybe Alex just took his number to get on Mattie's good side, since it sounds like  _ she's  _ the one he wanted in the first place.

But then, just a few minutes later, his phone  _ rings,  _ and the call is from an unknown number. Polly looks up at him curiously; John can't remember the last time he got an actual phone call.

“Hello?” he says, trying not to sound overly excited. It could be  his dentist's office calling for all he knows.

_ “Hey, is this town pretty-boy John Laurens?”  _ flirts the voice on the the other end, and John almost drops his fucking phone.  _ Holy shit. _

“Um, yes,” he stutters.

_ “I’m Alex Hamilton,”  _ Alex continues, like he's not killing John with every word. This - this is surreal, this shit never happens to him, how-?  _ “Did your friend tell you about me?” _

“Yes,” John says. That's about all he can say at the moment.

Alex pauses.  _ “Hey, if I'm too forward, let me know, but your friend showed me your picture, and you're more than pretty; you're damn fine. I’m looking for someone to show me around town tomorrow after school, and I was really hoping you might be interested.” _

John owes Mattie his life,  _ holy shit,  _ because she is the best wingman (wingwoman?) he's ever had. Not that he's had too many instances where he needed a wingperson, but the sentiment is still there.

“I am, I'm very interested,” John says quickly, the words tripping together to get out of his mouth.

Alex laughs.  _ “That's great. I'll text you the details, alright?” _

“Alright,” John says, and it's probably because he's dazed and confused about landing in this alternate universe where hot guys  _ call  _ him, he adds, “are you going to wear those skinny jeans?”

In the following silence, John wants to smack himself in the face over and over for not fucking thinking his words through. Marth peeks her head out of the living room and gives him a  _ look,  _ and he knows it's because she heard him say skinny jeans. As soon as Alex tells him what a freak he is for noticing what type of pants he was wearing from a distance, she's going to grill him. Great.

_ “You saw me today?”  _ asks Alex instead. 

“Um, yeah, I'm sorry, that was- um.” John has officially lost all ability to speak. Fantastic.

_ “Don't be sorry,”  _ Alex says,  _ “just tell me how you feel about black skinny jeans.” _

John chokes. The flirtatious tone is back; Mattie must've showed him a nice damn picture of John. He should really buy her some of that expensive chocolate she likes as a thank-you. “I like them,” John manages to say, which is impressive given the way his brain keeps short circuiting.

_ “Awesome. See you tomorrow, then.” _

“Yeah… tomorrow…” John echoes. Alex hangs up on his end. John stands there, completely sidelined by everything that just happened.  _ What  _ did _ just happen? _

“What just happened?” demands Marth. Polly looks between the two of them, puzzled. John's shock must be written all over his face.

“Mattie is amazing,” John murmurs, “she gave Alex my number.”

“Alex-the-new-guy?” asks Marth, sounding incredulous, “And he actually called you? Have you two even  _ met?” _

“Not yet,” John admits. He finally sets his phone down on the counter, and then he braces his weight against said counter. “But we have a date tomorrow.”

Marth blinks.  _ “A date?” _

“I mean, he didn't use that word, but he called me ‘pretty boy’ right off the bat, so I'm assuming that's where we're going with this,” John says.

Marth is about to chastise him,tell him this is too convenient, too good, to be true. John can tell by the way she’s furrowing her eyebrows. But then: “Can you go on a date with another boy?” Polly asks.

_ Shit.  _ John completely forgot she was sitting there.

“Yes,” he says, and thank God for youth's easy acceptance, because she doesn't need any explanation. She goes back to coloring her Disney princesses. Hopefully, not making a big deal out of it will keep her from mentioning it in front of Dad.

“Except John's not going on date,” Marth says pointedly, “because he doesn't even know this guy, and what do we say, Polly?”

“Stranger danger,” Polly says, right on cue.

When did Marth get so motherly? “Marth, we're going to be out in public, and I don't know if you noticed, but I'm bigger than him.”

Marth crosses her arms. “It seems fishy to me. He doesn't even know you, and yet he just calls you up and asks you out?”

“Being forward doesn't make him untrustworthy.”

Marth pinches the bridge of her nose, like John wanting to believe Alex has good intentions is stupid or annoying. “Listen, you do what you want, but you better text often because if you stop, I'm calling the police.”

“Why does Johnny wanna go on a date with a stranger?” Polly asks, looking up from her coloring again. John glances over at her picture; it's of Snow White and some of the dwarves, and they're covered in a rainbow of scribbles.

“Skinny jeans,” Marth answers, and though that just confuses Polly, John would says that is the most accurate explanation, for better or worse.


	4. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's kinda short but I think the next one will be longer

Alex feels bad; he truly does. He loves Lafayette, they've known each other for so long that they're family in every way but blood, and Alex doesn't like to disappoint him. It's just become an inevitable part of their dynamic. Alex fucks up, Laf gets mad, they fight, they reconcile, and they have a period of peace until the next time Alex fucks up. It's like their own personal dynasty cycle, starring Alex's rising and falling.

And that's probably part of the problem: Alex  _ knows _ Lafayette is going to forgive him. He always does. They’ve known each other for two hundred forty years, and Alex has done things far worse than compel one girl in pursuit of her hot friend. So, yeah, feels bad for upsetting Lafayette… but that doesn't stop him from using Mattie Manning to get a date with the Jack look-alike, John Laurens. She was already there, she was already compelled, Lafayette stormed off; the only thing that could've changed the situation is the morality Alex evidently does not possess.

The good news is that John Laurens seemed excited to hear from him. Alex doesn't know when John saw him yesterday, but it's a nice stroke for his ego when John mentions his skinny jeans. He doesn't usually wear skinny jeans - they make his ass look fantastic, but they also restrict his movement - but here he is, wearing them two days in a row because a guy he's said all of twenty words to requested them.

Alex hopes this boy is enough like Jack that this isn't a waste of time.

(He feels bad about that, too; for  _ hoping  _ that some kid can replace his long-dead.. friend.)

Alex texted John last night, made plans to meet him after school at 3:00 today, and so at 3:05, Alex is loitering in the parking lot, waiting for him to come around. He leans against a random car near the front of the lot so he can see who’s coming and going.

Lafayette left before him this morning, refused to look at him in class, and ditched him at lunch, which stung a little. Aside from the lack of Lafayette, though, day two of school was remarkably similar to day one, which Alex chalks up to the strange block schedule this school district has. The last time he was in high school, they took seven classes a day, for forty-five to fifty minutes each. He isn't sure which system he prefers yet.

“You need something?” someone asks. Alex glances around and sees a beautiful dark skinned girl with her hair pulled up high and keys in her hands, looking mildly annoyed. The car that Alex is leaning against gives a little beep that stings his ears. Ah. Must be hers.

He straightens up, takes his weight off her car, and lies: “Sorry, I thought this was someone else's car.” He's not sure why he lies to her. Perhaps because she  _ is  _ so striking, even with her lips thinned to a line and her brows furrowed.

“Uh huh,” she says, like she sees right through his bullshit. She goes around to the passenger side of her car, which is a little silver four-door, and tosses her backpack on the seat.

“I'm new here,” he tries. “My name's Alex Hamilton.”

“Angelica Schuyler,” she says, and there it is, a little half smile creeping onto her face. She's not as annoyed with him as she was trying to seem.

“Angelica?” he repeats. “You wouldn't happen to be the same Angelica that has Stats with Lafayette, would you?”

_ “You're  _ Lafayette's brother?” Angelica says, and then she starts laughing. People always do this. Alex gets it; they don't look - or act - much alike. Sometimes they have a hard time convincing people they're half-brothers. Alex would say that they're closer than any other pair of brothers, regardless of blood.

Speaking of blood - Alex's gums itch. His teeth are sore. They always ache a little. The curse of being a vampire is that the hunger for blood is constantly looming, ready to interject as soon as his mind starts to wander. He reaches for his thermos, which he keeps in the mesh side pocket of his backpack, and takes a sip from it.

Except it's empty.

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ He must've drank more today. Probably because of the guilt. He guilt-eats. 

Alex bites his lip - bites it so hard that his fang goes through it.  _ Fuck.  _ If his fangs are out, and they are,  _ they're crowding his mouth, _ then his eyes are probably dark, and the veins on his face are probably popping out because at the end of the fucking day, vampires - and Alex in particular - are fucking monsters.

“Are you alright?” asks Angelica. She frowns, peers at his face, and takes a step closer.

Alex forgot about her. It would've been in her best interest to get in her damn car and drive away, but no, she had to draw fucking attention to herself. This is why good samaritans end up dead in a ditch half the time.

Now that she drew attention to herself, Alex can hear her heartbeat, thrumming away in her chest. He can smell her - and beyond the gross flowery scent of perfume, she smells like  _ food. _

Alex crosses the distance between them far too fast; if someone saw him, he's fucked, but he can't think about that right now. All he can think about it blood. He's so fucking hungry.

“What the hell-?” Angelica shouts, but Alex looks her in eye and says, “Shut up and get in the car.”

The same distance look that came over Mattie yesterday falls over Angelica's face now. That's two days in a row Alex has broken Laf's rules. He'll feel bad about it later. After his snack.

Angelica gets in the back of her car, and Alex scrambles in after her. The parking lot is not the best place for this, but hopefully if anyone walks by, they’ll just amuse that he and Angelica are necking.

“Hold still,” Alex tells her, “this isn't going to hurt.” At least he has enough sense to tell her that.

The first bite is euphoric. His fangs slide through her skin like a knife through butter, and the coppery tang of warm blood bursts across his tongue. The world disappears around him - it's just Alex and blood, and he drinks and drinks and drinks

Eventually, he pulls away. Angelica falls back against the seat - leather, Alex notices now. She’s limp and bleeding from the neck. Alex probably drank more of her blood than is strictly healthy. But, eh, she's young.

Alex brings his own wrist to his mouth and bites into it. His blood - which is colder than Angelica's, and considerably more bitter - trickles into his mouth. Some vampire, usually partners, drink each other's blood as an act of intimacy. Alex hasn't tried that himself; he prefers his blood and his partners human. Lafayette's the only other vampire he can tolerate for an extended period of time. Well. Lafayette and the General.

But Alex doesn't know of any vampires who drink their own blood. That's odd. Vampire blood is more often used to heal human victims - it'd be a little suspicious if people ran around with bite marks all over them. But vampires are naturally great healers, and Alex isn't a scientist or anything, but somehow that translates into humans if they drink vampire blood.

So Alex presses his wrist to Angelica's mouth, gets her to drink a little of his blood, and the gaping wound on her neck knits back together. As soon as he pulls his wrist away, it's already healing itself, and all that's left of the ordeal is the blood smeared on his lips and her face and neck.

“Go straight home and clean yourself up,” Alex says, “then forget all about me, and everything I did, alright? You just came over to your car and drove home. If anyone asks about the blood, tell them you tripped or something.”

Angelica blinks, and then she nods and climbs into the driver's seat. Alex digs around in his backpack for something to wipe his mouth on, settles for a blank piece of paper, and then gets out of Angelica's car. There are only a few people around, and they're going to their own cars across the lot, minding their own business, so Alex slinks away unnoticed.

Angelica drives off.

She was good. Not all blood tastes the same; usually it reflects the health of the person it comes from, particularly what they eat, but exercise habits matter, too. Alex would peg her as the type to eat all her veggies and go for walks after dinner. Very metallic. Full of minerals.

Sometimes there's a sweet tang, sometimes it tastes fattier, sometimes Alex can tell what kind of drugs the person’s been using. He's great at identifying caffeine, alcohol, and marijuana, not to mention various over the counter pain killers and birth control.  

Sometimes he comes across someone with a blood disease, although he can usually smell those before he takes a bite. If he does make the mistake of feeding on someone with a blood illness, he spends the next three or four hours throwing up. Normally, though, the blood that makes him sick is that of people who injest vervain because that doesn't changes a person's scent. It tastes toxic as soon as he starts feeding, though, and that also lead to hours of vomitting. People who know about vampires are fucking annoying. 

Alex has just found a good spot to lurk in the shadow of the school when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, and low and behold, there's a text from John Laurens.

_ hey sorry I had to take my siblings home i completely forgot about them when we were making plans _

While Alex is reading the first message, John sends another:

_ I'm a horrible brother ik _

Alex sighs. This boy doesn't know the meaning of  _ bad brother.  _ He's an angel, truly, compared to Alex.

_ that's ok I get it; r u back now? _

_ yeah im parked by the football field _

Alex glances around and, yeah, the football field is on the  _ other  _ side of the fucking parking lot.

_ ill be there in a min _

Alex walks across the parking lot at what he thinks is a normal human pace, or maybe a little faster. In actuality, he's fast enough to cross the distance in a handful of seconds, but he's already pushed his luck enough for one day.

When he spots John, he has to stop for a moment. He still looks like a carbon copy of Jack. It wasn't a trick of the eye. It didn't just seem that way because of the distance and the chaos of the hall between them. He actually looks more and more familiar when Alex starts walking again, getting closer and closer.

John's leaning against the driver's side of a black pickup truck with his hands buried in his pockets. That mannerism is the only thing  _ off _ about him; even if Jack lived to see the twenty-first century, Alex can't picture him with his hands in his pockets. He would be the type to cling to old manners.

“Hey,” says John when Alex is within human earshot.

“Hey.”

“Sorry about making you wait.”

“No worries,” says Alex, though if John had been on time, he probably wouldn't have snacked on Angelica. But he can't tell John that.

Besides, maybe he would've fed on John instead.

Alex sniffs the air, and underneath that modern soap and deodorant (Old Spice, Alex thinks), John even  _ smells  _ like Jack. Alex doesn't know how that's possible, how this kid can be so much like  _ him,  _ but Alex isn't going to question it. Maybe the universe is just giving him a second chance. If that's the case, Alex won't fuck it up this time.

Alex hops into the passenger seat of the truck, and John gets into the driver's side. “So, uh, where do you wanna go?” John sounds so nervous; it's endearing.

Alex shrugs. “I don't know; where do people in this town typically go for first dates?”

John looks over at him, bug-eyed, and Alex can't help but laugh. Surely he picked up that Alex was flirting with him, right? 

The laugh dies in his throat when Alex notices that John’s eyes are the same beautiful mixture of green and brown that Jack's were. Alex suddenly has the urge to kiss John until he can't breathe, until he can't  _ think. _

John must've noticed the tension, too, because those stunning eyes drop to stare Alex's lips.

But then he clears his throat, and the moment passes. “We could go to this Mexican place I know, if you're hungry. It has killer nachos.”

Alex isn't hungry, but he agrees to go to the Mexican place.


	5. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter, as promised
> 
> warning: I didn't know how sexual this was gonna end up when I started, so the fic doesn't really have tags for that yet. this chapter doesn't contain any sex but there is some chatter about it and such so if that makes u uncomfortable proceed with caution
> 
> thank you everyone for all your wonderful comments!! hope u enjoy!

John takes Alex to Liberty's one and only Mexican restaurant, called  _ El Niño, _ that's run by an older couple and staffed by their seven sons. And John was not lying when he said that Señora Torres makes a mean plate of nachos - he thinks it's the salsa that kicks it up to that level. She makes the salsa and the guacamole fresh, if John remembers correctly.

Alex orders a water, and he says that he's fine with splitting the big plate of nachos with John, even though John warns him that he's a bit of a nacho hog. John gets a Coke for himself; what can he say, it's the afternoon, he's feeling sort of drowsy. Sugar and caffeine are a good cure for that.

“So,” John says once they've ordered, “um, where are you from?” He's not the best conversationalist; he hopes Alex can tell he's genuinely interested. Because he is. He wants to know everything he can about the handsome guy across from him.

“Nevis, originally,” Alex says, and then he adds, “it's an island in the Caribbean.”

John's going to have to Google Nevis later. “So…the other new guy, Lafayette, are you related?” Because John is pretty sure his friends said that Lafayette's French. At least, he thought that's what Maria said.

Something like annoyance, but tainted with… guilt, maybe, clouds Alex's face at the mention of Lafayette. It disappears quickly,though. “Yeah, he's my half-brother. Mom really got around, you know?” he says with a little smile.

John wonders if he's using the past tense because his mother is  _ past tense,  _ but that's not really an appropriate question for a first date, so he doesn't go there. “So… how'd you end up in this deadbeat town?”

“Step-dad’s from here,” Alex says shortly. “To be honest, I'd rather be in New York, but…” he looks John over, slowly and deliberately, “...I’m starting to see that this place isn't so bad after all.”

It's probably a bad sign that John wants to lean across the table and kiss Alex until their lips bruise. John’s been attracted to people before, sure, but never so suddenly, and the pretty animalistic urge freaks him out a bit. It's just, staring into those dark eyes - yeah, he knows he’s screwed because he’s going on about  _ eyes _ \- and that daring little smirk... He is definitely going to do something stupid with this guy. He's so  _ fucked. _

Thankfully, their waiter brings their drinks, which cuts through the tension and keeps John from doing that something stupid right here and now.

“Thanks,” he manages to say to the waiter, because John has some dickish tendencies, but he tries to at least be polite to people he doesn't know very well. He takes a long drink of his Coke to avoid eye contact with Alex for a few seconds. It's a little intense, all that eye contact.

Alex says thanks, too, offhandedly. When John puts down his glass, Alex hasn't looked away and the waiter is gone, and John has no idea what to say now.

“What about you?” Alex says, saving him from having to come up with something. “Have you always lived here?”

“Yeah,” John says, “haven't really ever been out of Virginia, actually.” He hasn't been out of Liberty much since his mother died; his father isn't one for vacations. He's a little jealous that Alex is from a Caribbean island, that he's lives in New York. He wonders if Alex has been to France; he never did mention which brother was older, or what the circumstances of either of their births were - besides “mom gets around.” That's probably too much information for a first date, too, though. “Well, actually, we traveled to South Carolina once. My dad's family is from there. Charleston.”

Alex nods. “South Carolina's an interesting state,” he says, which is kind of a strange comment. “First to secede from the Union before the Civil War, you know?”

John vaguely remembers learning that in some history class. He wonders if Alex is a history nerd like Herc; they'd actually be nice. John wants Alex to get on with his friends. “Yeah, but it's not as interesting as Virginia. All the important Founding Fathers and such are from here,” John's pretty sure that's right, although he can still only remember, “like George Washington.”

Alex frowns so sharply and so deeply that one would think John had insulted him. Maybe his history's wrong…? “Not all the important ones,” Alex grumbles.

“Sorry,” John says, a bit perplexed, “I, uh, didn't mean to offend you.”

Alex sighs. “You… didn't,” he says, in a way that makes John feel like that's exactly what happened. “Why don't we talk about your family? I told you about my brother.”

Alex barely said anything at all about Lafayette, but John takes the out. “I have four siblings. Marth, Henry, Jemmy, and Polly.”

For some reason, Alex sits up a little straighter, seems to listen a little closer, when he mentions he has four siblings. “Two sisters and two brothers?”

“Yeah…?”

Alex gives a tiny shrug and takes a small sip from his water. “I just think that'd be nice. To have so many siblings. I don't have any sisters.”

John smiles fondly at the thought of Marth and Polly. He doesn't know what he'd do without them. Shame Alex doesn't have any sisters in his life. “Well, Marth and I are close; she's only a year younger than me. And Polly's the baby. She just started first grade.”

Alex grins. “I bet she's sweet.”

John recalls how much shit Marth was giving him yesterday about agreeing to go on this date. She was wrong, he thinks. It doesn't matter that he doesn't know Alex yet; that's the point of dating in the first place. And so far, they seem to have this chemistry between them. If John's reading this right.

“Yeah, she's adorable,” agrees John.

The waiter brings their nachos, which John immediately tucks into. The nachos are loaded with melted cheese, ground beef, jalapeños, sour cream, and salsa, with some guac on the side, and they're just as delicious as they were last time. He barely had anything for lunch today because Mattie and Maria kept making his nervous, teasing him about his  _ date _ like they're fucking freshmen, and that killed his appetite.

Alex, however, doesn't appear to be that hungry. He eats a few and agrees that they're good, but John suspects he only said he was hungry as an excuse to sit down somewhere and talk. That makes John feel all warm and fuzzy.

“You’re a senior, right?” John asks between nachos. “What classes are you in?”

“US History, US Gov, Marketing, some gym class, English 12, Psychology, and Journalism,” Alex says, counting out seven classes on his fingers as he lists them. “I think your sister is in my Psych class.”

John nods. “Yeah, she looks a bit like me.”

“You have more freckles,” Alex comments. John is surprised that he noticed, considering he's only seen John and Marth like once - and not even together.

Before John can say anything about Alex’s observational skills, Alex returns his question: “What classes are you in?”

They chat easily like that for awhile. They talk about school - John tells him to watch out for the gym teacher, a hardass called Coach André, but Alex doesn't seem concerned. They discuss hobbies; Alex is a writer to the core, and he writes all sorts of things, apparently. He's working on a novel, a critique of the national financial plan (which John knows nothing about), and a biography for some historical dude John's never heard of. John mentions his interest in art and nature and that turns into a conversation on protecting the environment.

Alex seems every bit the activist, which is definitely something John likes about him. Turns out, they share stances on a number of other social issues, especially equality for minorities and healthcare. John didn't mean for those topics to come up right away; the way he was raised, it's rude to bring up anything remotely political with an acquaintance, but Alex apparently has no such qualms.

Then they talk about future plans; Alex wants to go to college in New York. He seems particularly fond of Columbia University, an Ivy League school that John doesn't have a shot in hell of getting into, even if he bothered to apply. He mentions (bit sourly) that he'll probably go to a state school here in Virginia. Alex’ll go back to New York and find someone better than him. That's just fantastic.

Alex seems to sense his shift in mood, because he redirects the conversation back to  _ now  _ and asks

John if he does anything outside of school, like work. John doesn't have a job, but he tells Alex about how he plans to play baseball in the spring, how he's done it for the past couple years. Makes a joke about being a walking stereotype. Alex laughs and says he could never do sports himself, but that he'd love to come to a game when baseball season rolls around. John says that he would like that very much.

When they finally get the check (which John insists on paying, citing how he ate most of the nachos), it's just past six. John can't believe they talked for so long.

“You need a ride home?” John asks as they leave the restaurant.

“That'd be nice, thanks,” says Alex. John walks behind him out the door and over to the truck, which is a pretty shameless excuse to check out Alex's ass in skinny jeans again. Alex is onto him; he looks over his shoulder and winks, walks with a deliberate sway to his hips.

John drives Alex home with only one hiccup. Alex gets mixed up and instructs him to take a wrong turn; they end up laughing about it, and Alex keeps saying, “I'm new here, goddammit, give me a break!” when John teases him.

When they  _ do  _ find the right road, it leads off into the woods on the north edge of town, where the houses are further apart. Alex lives in a  _ huge  _ fucking house that's kind of in the middle of nowhere. It's at least three stories, and it has wide windows, a long, canopied porch, and a fancy door knocker. It's mostly an off-white color, with some grey accents, and it seems under decorated on the outside, but that doesn't take much from its grandeur.

“Whoa,” says John, “nice place.”

Alex looks a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Thanks. Hey, I had a great time today, John.”

John takes his attention of the house and turns it back to Alex, who's leaning toward him. Alex puts a hand on John's thigh, probably to test the waters. John doesn't protest. His heart rate speeds up. Is Alex going to kiss him? He wouldn't mind.

“I really want to kiss you,” Alex breaths.

“Do it,” John says, and then Alex's lips are on his. The angle's a bit weird, so Alex braces both his hands on John's leg and pushes himself onto the middle section between the two seats. John grabs his left leg with one hand, yanks him closer, and Alex lets out a moan that gets his blood boiling.

There's nothing sweet or chaste, hesitant or awkward, in this kiss; it's the opposite of the few closed-mouth smooches John shared with Mattie. In this kiss, their mouths are open from the start, and one of them - or both, John can't fucking tell, he can't fucking think - is making sweet little noises. 

Alex tries to get closer, shifts so he isn't holding his weight on his hands, and their teeth clash together a bit awkwardly, but then his tongue's in John's mouth and his fingers are running through John's hair, and everything is hot and pressing and close and  _ fuck.  _ Alex smells good, like something spicy John can't place, and his mouth tastes a bit like nachos, and there's something just so  _ right  _ about making out in the front seat of his truck with Alex half in his lap.

John has to pull away to breath far too soon for his liking, but Alex is relentless. His mouth goes from John's lip to John's neck without pause, and John groans when Alex starts sucking and nibbling a hickey over a pulse point.

“Holy fuck,” he pants, and he can feel the vibrations of Alex's laughter more than hear it.

“Excited?” Alex whispers, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin he was just working over with his mouth.

“Yes,” John manages. “Fuck yes.”

Alex laughs, and it's such a nice sound, and then they're kissing again. John's hand slides up Alex's thigh - those fucking amazing thick thighs - and across the curve of his ass. He squeezes, just once, experimentally, and Alex fucking  _ growls. _

When they break apart, John realizes just how fucking turned on he is. He's aching for it so much that he's thinking with the less clever of his two heads, with no sense of proper reservedness, and he blurts, “Do you wanna fuck?”

Alex blinks at him, pupils blown wide, and doesn't say anything.

John feels a little embarrassed, so he continues talking, even though that's likely to lead him to  _ more  _ embarrassment. “We could, uh, get in the back?”

There's enough tree coverage around that it's pretty unlikely anyone would see anything.

“I'm pretty sure I have condoms and lube,” he adds, tripping over the words. He isn't even sure of that. He wasn't planning to get laid. He should really shut up now.

“Do this often?” Alex asks, and though his tone is light, John can tell it's a genuine question.

“Never.”

Alex quirks an eyebrow. “Never had sex? Or never had sex in a car?”

“Never had sex in a car… or with a guy in general,” John admits. He slept with Mattie one time. It was… bad. They don't speak of it.

“As much as I want to be your first time, and believe me, I do,” Alex says, “I think it'd probably be better to start in bed.”

“Right.” John is such an idiot. He met this guy like three hours ago, and he already wants to take his pants off.  _ Fucking dumbass.  _ At least Alex has some sense.

“We should go out again some time,” Alex suggests, opening up the driver's side door, since he's almost completely in John's lap now. “You free Saturday?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Great. So I'll text you?”

“Yeah,” John says, “please do.”

Alex treats him to one more of those beautiful laughs, and then he's out of the truck and heading for his house.

John feels lonely at the loss.

The rest of the week passes not slowly, really, but it also doesn't seem to be in a hurry. Teachers start assigning complex homework assignments on Wednesday, which gives John distractions to help the time pass until Saturday. He doesn't see Alex much because they aren't in the same classes, and for some reason, John can't get the balls to ask him if he wants to eat lunch with John and his friends. He  _ might _ be a little afraid that they all won't get along.

John tells his friends the bare minimum about his date during lunch because he doesn't like to talk about it in public. What if someone else overheard, and it got back to his father? He can play off getting food with a friend, if someone tells his dad that he and Alex were eating together, but a passionate makeout session in the front seat of his truck is a little hard to play off as platonic.

Mattie badgers him, says no one's gonna hear him if they're all sitting in Herc's van, and she has a point, but… he promises to tell them all about it come Saturday morning.

Saturday morning finds him at Herc’s house with his friends; he agreed to meet up with the three of them before going out with Alex in the afternoon.

Herc’s house sits on the edge of town, small and battered, but John thinks it has quite a bit of personality all the same. Herc’s roof sags inward a little, and the front porch is cluttered with old bikes and scooters and other miscellaneous stuff that he and his siblings used to use. There’s a stray rollerblade that John trips over every time he goes to Herc’s, every  _ single _ time without fail, even though now he’s on the lookout for it. There are also wind chimes made of every material imaginable - bones, twigs, nuts, dried berries, twisted pieces of metal - lining the tiny roof that overhangs the porch.

The wind chimes are the first sign that Herc’s grandmother, who insists that everyone call her Nana, has a deep fascination with nature. Inside, there are actual plants all over the place, as well has strategically stacked piles of rocks and pebbles, little fabric bags full of dried herbs and spices, and jars of different types of liquid - which Nana say are  _ mostly _ water.

John, Mattie, and Maria spend most of their free time at Herc's because Herc’s family is the most amiable. Sure, Nana is a little eccentric, but she likes them, and Herc’s mom is rarely home, what with having some fancy business job in the city. The kids, Herc’s gaggle of siblings, tend to spend as much time as possible outside, so really, it’s the perfect place for the four of them to come and do homework or hang out.

Right now, they're hanging out in the kitchen. Upon hearing that John has a date, Maria declared herself his hair stylist, so he's sitting at the kitchen table, and she's tugging a huge brush through his hair. Herc and Mattie are by the counter, cooking something. Eggs, it smells like.

“So, tell us all about your cute new boyfriend that your amazing friend set you up with,” begins Mattie.

John sighs. “He's not my boyfriend. We've been on one date.” One wonderful date that ended with the most intensely erotic moment of his life.

“I thought you were just showing him around,” says Maria. “Does that really count as a first date?”

“John was showing him around alright,” Herc teases, “showing him around his  _ ass.” _

Mattie and Maria both giggle at that, and John shoots Herc a glare. Herc just beams at him.

“I wish,” John huffs, which only increases his friends’ amusement. “We made out pretty hard, though.”

“Oooh, give us the details,” Mattie demands, flipping her spatula and pointing it at him.

“Er…” What else is there to say?

“Did you use tongue?” Maria asks, giving John a little direction. She tugs at a particularly tough knot, which causes John to wince

“Yeah, yeah, there was tongue. And teeth.”

“Feisty,” says Mattie.

“He gave me a hickey,” John adds. “I've been covering it with Marth's concealer all week.” Thank God for sisters and their similar skin tones. Marth hadn't been exactly happy that he came home with a hickey; she still disapproved of him going out so hard and fast with a guy he barely knew. And she told him that. Lectured him, really. But whatever, she let him borrow the concealer in the end.

“I’m impressed you know what concealer is,” Mattie snorts.

“Hey, I listen to you, Maria, and Marth when you talk,” John protests. He does. Mostly.

“Of course you do; you’re a good guy,” Maria says sweetly. “Herc, can I put some of these flowers in John's hair? I think they'd look pretty.”

There are all kinds of flowers in the kitchen; there's a line of them on the window sill above the sink, a couple by the edge of the table, and one on top of the microwave. John has no idea which one she's referring to - or if she's planning to put some of every kind in his hair.

Anyone else, and he'd be skeptical about how nice it'd turn out, but Maria is a hair guru, and if she thinks flowers would look nice, he trusts her.

“Uh, depends on which ones you wanna use,” Herc says. He finishes his eggs, and Mattie uses the little spatula to scoop them onto plates.

“The vervain in the window,” replies Maria. “I want to weave the green stem parts into his curls so that you can only see the clusters.”

“What the hell is vervain?” John asks.

Mattie puts down her spatula and leans over to the flowers in the window. She picks a tiny sprig of purplish flowers, which has a fat green stem that goes on for about an inch and a half beyond the flowering part. “I think that's what this is.”

Herc laughs. “Yeah, according to my grandmother, it wards off vampires. Burns them.”

_ Vampires,  _ John thinks,  _ yeah, right.  _ John's never been one for the supernatural. He likes the occasional horror movie, but beyond that, it’s never piqued his interest. There's so much crazy shit in the real world; he doesn't see why people want to  _ make up _ crazy shit. But it doesn't surprise him that Nana believes in them. She seems like the superstitious type.

“Well, that's good,” Maria says. “John wants a vampire-free date. So can I use some?”

“Does he? He seems pretty into necking,” jokes Mattie.

“Go ahead,” Herc says, answering Maria. “Nana's always trying to get me to carry some around; I doubt she'll have a problem with John being ‘protected.’”

So Maria picks some vervain and begins threading it into John's hair, Herc passes him a plate of eggs, and Mattie demands to know more about Alex.

John's feeling great right about now.


	6. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a frickin ton happens in this chapter
> 
> there's a jump back in time here w/ Alex for most of the chaprer ~ between the date at the beginning of the week and the one on Saturday

After Alex walks away from John's (very tempting) offer, he goes inside his garish fucking mansion, which is actually Lafayette's, and sighs like women do in movies when they fall in love really quickly, after that date montage. Alex is not young enough or dense enough to believe he's in love - it's been three hours - and so he kicks that fluttery feeling out almost as soon as it manifests.

Alex wasn't lying to John when he said they should wait for a bed. He's had sex in a lot of weird places, including the back of a pickup, and he knows first-hand that it's not particularly comfortable. But he would've gone for it anyway, if he thought he could keep himself from biting John for that long. Feeding on Angelica kept him pretty content while they were at the restaurant, but by the time they were making out… well, John's lucky he walked away with only a hickey.

Alex goes to the kitchen and opens up the fridge, which is filled with blood bags swiped from hospitals and blood drives. Not enough to be detrimental to any communities, of course. The freezer is packed full of them, too, but they go through so much blood that they have to go out about once every six weeks for more. They usually make a weekend road trip out of it.

Alex grabs a bag and rips it open, sipping from the hole in the top like it's a juice box. Blood has such a sharp, tangy metallic smell that makes his mouth water whenever he's within a few yards of it. He bitches about drinking cold, pre-frozen blood all the time, but the good thing about getting his meals this way is that there's less chance it's spoiled. Only a certain pool of people can donate blood: the healthy.

Alex drains the entire bag in under five minutes, and then he tosses it. Their trash is almost exclusively empty blood bags, which means they dispose of it themselves. It's a ton of work, covering up vampirism, but it's better than being staked by some self-righteous hunter.

When he's done his dinner, Alex grabs his thermos, washes it out, and refills it for tomorrow. He'll have to watch how much he eats during school. Can't have anymore parking lot mishaps. Lafayette would kill him - but Alex doesn't think he'll catch wind of one incident.

Lafayette isn't home, but that isn't unusual when he's pissed at Alex or new in town, and today he happens to be both. He's probably out making friends by the dozen. Lafayette is effortlessly charming; Alex is convinced that if he wanted, he could talk people into letting him feed from them, no compulsion required.

Alex prefers his own socialization at a distance, so he grabs his laptop and checks his social media. He has a Twitter, which he constantly uses to argue with dumbasses, and an Instragram, on which he rarely posts anything. Mostly he just likes Lafayette's pictures.

When he's done wasting time, he does the small amount of homework he's already been assigned, and then he works one of his numerous essays for awhile. This one's on tax reform. He'll probably publish it under a pseudonym in a couple of months.

This is how most of Alex's evenings go, although when Lafayette is around sometimes they go out. He's working on concisely articulating his first counterargument when his phone buzzes, and he absentmindedly picks it up to see who texted him.

It's from John, which makes Alex smile.

_ hey _

Alex is very flirty and not very reserved, which doesn’t seem to bother John, so he feels comfortable texting back:

_ hey handsome ;) _

_ u dont have to flatter me im already planning on sleeping w/ u _

Alex laughs out loud. John's bold, too, delightfully so. Definitely more bold than Jack was, at least on this particular topic.

Alex thinks that if - and that's a big  _ if  _ \- this goes anywhere but casual sex, he's going to have to stop comparing John to Jack. Sure, they have an incredible number of things in common, from their appearance to their family to some of their opinions (although those are a little more difficult to compare across eras). But Alex has already noticed that John's more confidence than Jack, and he seems less self-sacrificing. Perhaps less morally straight-and-narrow, Alex can't tell yet. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he asked  _ John  _ to stay with him forever, John would say yes. And that'd be the biggest difference.

_ easy tiger r u even legal yet?  _ Alex texts back, though he already knows the answer. He finds himself wanting to wait until John's birthday, at least. Not because he's suddenly an upstanding guy, but that'd get Lafayette off his back, and that'd make it more special for John.

Ah, feelings. Worrying about special someone's almost first time is.  _ It's been a day, you fucking moron,  _ he reminds himself. The fluttery feeling, which he  _ thought  _ he dealt with earlier, doesn't seem to give a fuck about how long it's been.

_ not til the end of Oct.,  _ John responds, and then another message pops up in quick successions.  _ ur 18? _

Alex snorts. More like eighteen times fourteen and some change. Fourteen point three maybe? Math isn't Alex's strong suit.

_ yeah since january _

_ old man :p _

_ rude _

_ deal w/ it _

Alex starts to type a teasing response about John's attitude, but his phone starts ringing. It's Lafayette. That's both weird and not; if anyone were going to call him, Alex would suspect Laf, but his pseudo-brother also hates talking on the phone, so they don't do it often.

_ “I am going drive a stake so far into your chest that you will be coughing up splinters for the next thirty years!”  _ threatens Lafayette so loudly that Alex removes the phone from his ear for the sake of his fragile eardrums.

“Why-?”

_ “Ta gueule!”  _ Lafayette snaps, and Alex shuts up.  _ “I cannot believe - when I said I thought you would like Angelica, that was not an invitation to  _ eat  _ her!” _

How did he find out about that? Alex is certain he altered her memory enough that  _ she  _ shouldn't even know.

“Er… how'd you find out about that?” Alex asks because denying it would only make this worse. Lafayette can usually tell when he's lying, anyway.

_ “She wrecked her car, Alexander! She died!” _

Oh, fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Angelica died… with Alex's blood in her system.

Contrary to popular believe, vampirism isn't transmitted through bites.  _ Blood _ is what sustains vampires; it makes sense that it creates them, too. If a human dies after drinking vampire blood, they come back. If they take a swig of human blood within a day of coming back, they stay back. That's not to say everyone who's ever been healed with vampire blood will come back when they die; it leaves the body as fast as any other liquid, and when it's gone, it's gone. There's just a few hours - maybe twelve or so - after healing a human that they really  _ shouldn't _ die. Unless they want to be a vampire. Alex remembers being that stupid.

_ “Shit.  _ Is she - did she -?” Alex doesn't even know what to ask first. Is she alright? Of course not. She's probably hungry enough to drain a large village right now. The hunger is so much stronger in the beginning. Did she hurt anyone? Hopefully, Lafayette got to her before that happened. Otherwise, they need to get out of town.

Alex has never turned anyone intentionally. People rarely ask, and those who do tend to be dangerous. He's turned maybe four people accidentally (Lafayette has, too), but this is the first time that it's happened in about seventy-five years. Usually, they teach the new vampire how to blend in and send them on their way. It might seem a little harsh, kicking them out of their home, but in Alex's experience, that's the kinder thing to do. He's yet to meet a vampire that doesn't go on a killing spree within the first year of turning; it's so much harder to recover from that if those victims are friends and family.

He's never turned someone so young before, though. They may not be able to turn her away without causing  _ more  _ problems.

_ “She needs blood,”  _ Lafayette says, which makes Alex think that no one else died in this mess.  _ “We are hiding out until sundown; she was burning when I found her.” _

Alex looks down at the shiny ring on his left index finger: his daylight ring. Two thin strips of silver incase one dark blue strip of lapis lazuli, a precious stone that, when enchanted by a witch and worn by a vampire, allows the latter to walk in sunlight without burning to a crisp. Enchanted lapis lazuli is a bitch to get ahold of because very few witches like vampires enough to help them. Most won't on principle.

Usually His Excellency procures a couple of the precious stones, full of magic and ready to go, and brings them whenever he decides to visit. Which is not often.

Since Alex and Lafayette have their sire to bring them their own lapis lazuli, they can't normally help their accidents find a way to walk during the day. Alex hasn't seen a witch since the turn of the century. The 20th century. And she was trying to kill him.

So. Angelica won't be able to go out during the day until she remedies that problem, and Alex has a feeling that Lafayette might make  _ him  _ solve that issue because he's vindictive.

Alex peaks outside. The sun should set within the next hour and a half or so. “Did you explain anything to her?”

_ “I tried; however, she keeps panicking. So I have decided that you will fix this. You are lucky I have not simply chosen to give her your ring and shove you out into the unforgiving sunset,”  _ Lafayette says, and though he's not shouting anymore, the death threat is much more chilling than the stabbing threat he opened with.

“I can't really fix it…” Alex says hesitantly.

_ “You will not abandon the damn child you turned, Alexander,”  _ hisses Lafayette, and then he hangs up abruptly. Maybe he got mad enough to crush his phone in his hand, though Alex is the more likely of the two of them to lose his cool like that.

Alex checks his phone, sees that he has a text from John, and sends back something really vague as an excuse to leave the conversation.

They'll have to make plans for Saturday later.

Alex paces the kitchen like a caged tiger. He pounds back two more blood bags - more of that healthy guilt eating - and glances at his open Word document without writing anything new. Eventually, the sun sets, and about twenty minutes after, the front door slams open so hard that Alex wonders if Laf broke it off its hinges.

Lafayette stalks into the kitchen and yanks open the fridge. He grabs two blood bags without saying a word, and Alex silently follows him into the living room. The girl, Angelica, is sitting on the couch, looking more or less like she did this afternoon. Now she's covered in dried blood, though. Smells like her own. Tragic.

When she sees Alex, she stands up and crosses the room like a young vampire unaccustom to their new speed. That is to say, way too fast for mixed company. They'll have to work on that, if she's going to stick around.

“You did this to me!” she spits in his face, her underdeveloped fangs protruding from her mouth.

“I didn't kill you,” Alex says.

“You… you bit me! And now I'm-,” she motions furiously to her face, and surely enough, the veins have risen under her eyes, “-like this!  _ I am going to kill you.” _

“First of all, my biting did not do  _ this,”  _ Alex says, motioning to her face. “That was you and your shitty driving. Really, you should be thanking me for the fact that you're not rotting in some morgue right now.” Kids these days. No respect. No appreciation. Alex is going to have to hear about this for the next century; the least she could do is be grateful for her life.

“Second,” he says, turning to Lafayette and snatching one of the blood bags out of his hands, “have a drink. You'll feel better.” He presses the unopened bag into her hands, and she stares at it. Like she's never been handed a pint before or something. (That joke would've been funnier if they were in Europe, Alex supposes.)

“If you don't drink that, you'll die,” Alex tells her. Which saves him a lot of work, so he's not sure why he's telling her that. But, Lafayette probably would if he didn't. Or maybe he already did.

Angelica glances at him, then back at the bag, and slowly twists off the top seal. As soon as the scent of blood fills the room, Angelica's mouth is on the bag, and she's draining it like she hasn't eaten in weeks. She finishes her first bag in under a minute, which is impressive and a little nauseating. Lafayette tosses her the second bag when she's done, and she wastes no time. She bites through the plastic instead of taking three seconds to tear off the top.

“Remember being that young?” Alex asks, and predictably, Laf glares at him.

But Lafayette, for all his griping,  doesn't hate Alex. They're still brothers and all that touchy-feely shit. So after a moment, he responds, “I remember that you drank three working women in under an hour.”

Alex remembers those whores, too. Poor girls. They still get the short end of the stick today, prostitutes, because they're just so damn easy to sweep under the rug. It's sad, really, but also kind of convenient when Alex is craving blood straight from the vein. Although, they tend to make him sick these days. With all the drugs and disease that run rampant in that circle.

“You were drinking that pub owner, and his wife walked in and thought it was some kinky gay shit,” Alex laughs, and Lafayette rolls his eyes. He ate the wife, too, that first night. Teenage Lafayette was a hell of a lot more fun than modern, centuries-old Lafayette.

“Do you have more?” Angelica asks a moment later. Her eyes are a feral yellow-brown, marking her completely inhuman now.

Alex glances at Lafayette, who shakes his head minutely. They don't have enough blood for her to go wild like new vampires tend to do. “After we talk.”

Angelica licks the blood off her lips. “Well, then, we better get to talking.”

They spend the next hour or so giving Angelica a crash course on vampirism. Lafayette was right in his initial assessment of her; Alex thinks she's pretty quick. She listens intently, asks a few questions, and gets annoyed when they tell her they don’t have any more daylight jewelry. She asks if she can borrow one of theirs, so that she can go reassure her family (as she seems particularly fond of her younger sisters) that she's alright, but neither of them trust her enough for that. Which she actually takes with minimal pouting. Despite the way she lashed out at him, Alex doesn't take her for much of a whiner, so long as she knows what's happening.

They give her another pack of blood and then direct her to one of the mansion's many guest bedrooms. She seems a little put off by the fact that she'll never sleep again, but Alex is confident that she'll learn to appreciate it. She takes books with her to keep her occupied.

“What happened?” Alex asks Lafayette when she's gone, out of earshot.

Lafayette sighs. “She crashed into a tree. I do not know if it was your mistake with the way you compelled her, or simply a mistake on her part. In any case, she went through the windshield and died from the impact. I came across her as I drove from school. Her skin was just beginning to burn; she must have reanimated moments before. So I put her in the back of my car and covered her with a blanket. Then I had to deal with the police, who unfortunately arrived just after me.”

“Did you compel them?”

Lafayette closes his eyes, which causes an ominous feeling to creep into Alex's chest. “No, I simply played dumb because they were on vervain. I believe they will keep Angelica’s accident and subsequent disappearance quiet for their own reasons, though. We must be careful in this town, Alexander.”

Alex opens his mouth to suggest they leave because police officers on vervain are a sure sign that someone is onto them, which means it's only a matter of time before someone exposes them. But then he thinks of John, how much he _ wants  _ John, and he says nothing. Lafayette doesn't suggest they leave, either.

Hopefully, that won't get the three of them killed.

The rest of the week passes surprisingly uneventfully. An angry mob never shows up at their door, and only a few kids at school chatter about Angelica's sudden absence. Alex meets one of Angelica's sisters, Eliza, who seems tired, but for some reason, won't talk about her missing sister at all. When Alex relays this information to Angelica, she first throws a book at him for daring to talk to her  _ sister,  _ but then she comments on how strange that is.

Alex knows it has something to do with those vervained officers Lafayette was talking about. The two of them agree to keep an eye out for any other suspicious happenings. Angelica, for her part, huffs and goes back to her abundance of books. She's a little pissy about being cut off from the world for now, but Alex thinks she's spending her newfound free time trying to find a witch, so maybe she'll be back in the real world soon.

In between all the shady shit happening in his life, Alex does have a second to finalize plans with John for Saturday - which he tells neither Lafayette nor Angelica about. It's not like his romantic life is either of their business, right?

At around three on Saturday, Alex meets John in the parking lot of a mini golf course in the next town over because Liberty is too small to have it's own course, and mini golf is fucking fun.

John gets out of his truck - he really doesn't seem like a truck guy, now that Alex thinks about it - and he looks  _ stunning.  _ His clothes are pretty basic, but his hair is down and someone wove in flowers around his curls, and Alex wants to kiss him. So he runs over to meet him and does just that, reaches up to touch his hair while John kisses him back. He's too caught up in the moment, he needs a moment after the ordeal with Angelica and the police, and he's not paying attention to anything more than  _ John. _

The bitter stench of vervain hits him a moment too late. Alex's fingers brush against one of the clusters, and he hears his skin sizzle before he feels it. The burn is so bad that Alex can't play it off; he snatches his hand away and hisses, _“Ouch!”_

He looks down at his hand. There are angry red blisters on his fingertips. John stares at them, too. He watches with wide eyes at the blisters heal and fade far too quickly.

“What the hell just happened?” John whispers. 

_ Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta gueule is the French phrase for like shut the fuck up, if I'm Frenching right


	7. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble with this chapter for some reason. It's a bit dialogue heavy, too. 
> 
> But it's here!

Alex says nothing.

John asks him what the  _ hell  _ just happened, and Alex says  _ nothing.  _ John knows what it looked like; it looked like Alex touched the flowers in his hair, had some allergic reaction or something - except John could swear they were  _ blisters _ , and what kind of reaction is that? - and then spontaneously healed right before John's eyes.

But that's impossible. Right? John's not a biology expert or anything, but he's still pretty sure that isn't normal.

“Alex,” John pleads, “say something.”

That seems to snap Alex out of whatever came over him. “It’s nothing,” he says quickly. “Just an… allergic reaction.”

John frowns. “And the instant healing? You don't strike me as devout enough to have  _ that _ gift,” he says tartly.

Alex winces, maybe at the note of accusation in John’s voice, maybe at the situation in general. He's clearly keeping some sort of secret, but John's not sure what explanation there could be for miraculous healing. He closes his eyes, as if trying to collect his thoughts, and as the seconds tick by, the feeling that this date isn't going to end as well as the last one grows.

“John,” Alex says, opening his eyes, “I think it's obvious that I like you.”

That… isn't what John was expecting. “Uh, yeah, you made that pretty clear on Tuesday.”

Alex gives him a little grin, wiggles his eyebrows a bit, and John looks away to try and play off the blush coming across his cheeks. Damn Alex for distracting him with memories.  _ Damn him. _

“What does that have to do with this?” John asks, too loudly, and without looking back at Alex.

Alex heaves a sigh. “Because I like you enough to tell you something important, and I need you to promise that you won't tell  _ anyone _ \- not your friends, not your sister.”

John wishes he could tease Alex to lighten the tension in the air, wishes he could say something like  _ What, are you a mutant? _ But Alex’s tone is serious enough that John thinks it maybe be a matter of life and death, so he doesn't joke.

He just says, “I promise.”

Alex stares at him for a moment, probably searching his face for signs of sincerity. Unfortunately for Alex, John doesn't think they know each other quite well enough yet for him to know John's tells. It is fortunate, then, that John's being honest. At least, as honest as he can be without knowing exact what Alex's big secret is.

When Alex takes his eyes off John, he looks around the parking lot. There's no one around right now, only a few car dispersed sporadically around the lot. Still, Alex says, “Can we discuss it in your truck?”

John humors him. He unlocks the truck and climbs in the backseat so that they won't have to worry about the middle console between them. Alex hops in behind him and shuts the door.

“I could explain everything,” Alex says, “and I'll answer your questions, but let me show you a couple of things first.”

“Alright.”

Alex reaches toward John's hair again, and John automatically leans out of his range. He may not have understood everything about what happened a few minutes ago, but he does know that the flowers Maria painstakingly wove into his hair this morning hurt Alex. John feels a little bad because Maria was so pleased with her work, so certain that “any boy in his right mind” would love it. He'll probably lie to her, put some fake compliments into Alex's mouth.

“Let me grab some of that vervain, John,” Alex says.

John leans toward his hand, and Alex begins unwinding a stalk of vervain from John's hair. He lets out a low hiss of pain as soon as he touches the offending plant.John thinks his skin is burning, if the low sizzle that accompanies the hiss and the blisters earlier are anything to go by.

When Alex pulls the vervain free of John's hair, he scoots back and opens his hand for John to see the damage it caused. His palm is dark red, blistering in some places, and where the vervain makes direct contact with his skin, the skin seems to bubble and boil. There's actual steam rising off his hand, and yeah, there is definitely a sizzling noise. The vervain is  _ frying _ Alex like he's fucking bacon on a griddle.

John stares at Alex's hand. That's some reaction.

Alex carelessly drops the vervain onto the truck's floor, and immediately, the skin on his palm starts to mend itself. It closes up the tiny areas where the vervain at through it, and it somehow soothes the blisters and erases the angry redness. Within thirty seconds of dropping the wicked flowers, Alex's hand is completely healed.

“I saw that last time,” John says, but his voice is hushed, overcome with the awe and bewilderment of the whole ordeal. “But how?”

“Vervain burns vampires,” Alex responds, words just as soft.

“Vampires?” repeats John. He thinks Herc said something about vampires this morning when they were talking about decorating John's hair. But vampires aren't real. They can't be. That wouldn’t - that doesn't make sense. People would know if there were vampires. 

But then, people  _ do _ know about vampires. They're mentioned all the time in pop culture. Everyone's under the assumption that they're fake - and Alex hasn't convinced John yet, not really - which would make it easy for a real vampire to hide in plain sight.

_ Real vampire.  _ This is surreal. John doesn't fucking believe in vampires. He doesn't. Alex has an allergy. Alex is a ridiculously hot, slightly strange guy. Alex isn't a goddamn  _ vampire. _

_ You know that logic doesn't explain the healing,  _ whispers the tiny voice in the back of his head.

“Yes,” Alex confirms, and then, as if he can read John's mind, he adds, “I know it's hard to believe.” He wonders, briefly, if vampires can read minds, but then he kicks himself for being such a moron. Anyone in their right mind would be skeptical if someone else claimed to be a vampire. It's not a feat that Alex correctly guessed that John's mostly in his right mind.

“It's crazy,” John says.

“Look at my face.” John looks up at Alex's face, his handsome face, and it changes right before his eyes. Alex’s eyes, which are normally dark brown, lighten to a shiny yellow. The veins under his eyes and across the tops of his cheeks darken and pop out. And his canines grow. They grow so much that Alex drops his jaw - John doubts he can close his mouth when they're like that - and John can hardly deny his claims now.

“You're a vampire,” he concedes softly.

As quickly as Alex showed his vampiric features, he retracts them. “I am.”

“How?” John somehow manages to ask. It's pretty impressive, considering his mind is short circuiting right now, that he gets any words out at all.

“It's a long story,” he says evasively, “but the short version is that I was young, and I thought that being a vampire would help me change the world.”

_ I was young.  _ Didn't Alex say he was eighteen? What else has he lied about on the excuse of keeping his secret? “How old are you?”

“Two hundred and fifty something,” Alex says. John's jaw drops. _Two hundred and fifty._ That's… that's older than the United States. “I'm not exactly sure. I stopped counting after a hundred and fifty. I guess I could do the math, but I don't think it matters that much.”

John probably should be bothered by Alex's age, but he isn't. Alex looks like a teenager, acts like one - probably because he's been a teenager in twenty five fucking decades now, not hard to get that societal role down. He's also not really afraid of Alex as a vampire, and he thinks that should be an issue. What with vampires drinking human blood and all.

“Almost eighteen,” Alex points out sheepishly.

John rolls his eyes. “You're still too old for me.” Understatement of the year.

“I'm too old for  _ all  _ humans.”

“Maybe you should date vampires, then,” John teases. He doesn't want Alex to go find a vampire date, though. He wonders how much he's disgracing his ancestors with his gay infatuation with a vampire. Then he decides he doesn't care.

“There are a lot of vampires that are too young for me,” Alex grumbles. John laughs at his annoyance, and Alex’s expression softens into a small smile.

“So, how do you become a vampire? Does some vampire just bite you, or…?” 

Alex’s relaxed smile morphs into an amused smirk. “No. If people turned from bites, I’d have sired thousands.”

John imagines Alex sinking those long, sharp fangs into his victims. John knows he should be disgusted, repulsed, but he's already come to terms with the fact that he's a fucked up individual, and so all he really feels is an uncomfortable wave of jealousy. Does he really want Alex to bite him? To drink his  _ blood? _

John thinks he might. He enjoyed the nipping Alex did the other night when he was leaving that hickey. Though a skin-tearing bite is considerably more painful than a playful nip, John would assume.

Speaking of the other night how much did Alex  _ want  _ to bite him?  _ Oh, god. _

Alex, oblivious to John's inner conflict, answers the question John asked aloud about how vampires are created: “A human drinks a vampire's blood, then they die, and then they drink human blood.”

“Huh,” John says, “so does that mean that there aren't a lot of accidental vampires? I mean, why else would someone just drink vampire blood?” Does it even make sense for vampires to have blood of their own? John doesn't know. He's discovered today that he's woefully under informed on many subjects.

Alex winces, which makes John think that he's created a few accidental vampires of his own. John wonders if he's ever turned anyone intentionally. If anyone's ever asked him to. “Vampire blood has healing properties. We tend to give it to the people we bite so that they don't have lasting scars. If they die before it works its way from their systems, there’s your accidental vampire.”

“The people you bite, how do you keep them quiet about vampires?” John asks, although he's not sure he wants to know. He  _ needs _ to know.

“It's called compulsion,” Alex says. “Vampire mind control. Won't work on anyone wearing or ingesting vervain.” He motions to the abundance of vervain in John's hair, which John supposes is meant to be reassuring.

But it isn't because, “Have you used your compulsion on me?” John feels unsure of himself all of a sudden. Are his feelings actually his, or did  _ Alex _ vampire mind trick him into falling too hard, too fast? He thinks his attraction’s genuine; he thought Alex was hot before they actually met. But he can't shake the feeling that Alex did  _ something. _

“Of course not,” Alex says, which is weirdly reassuring. John wants to slap himself; Alex could easily be lying. “I used it on your friend, though. Mattie. So that she'd give me your number.”

“You saw me before you talked to her?” John asks, and then he shakes his head, because that's not the important thing he needs to say. “This relationship isn't going to work if you’re going to mind-trick the people in my life.”

“So we  _ are _ in a relationship?” Alex says, grinning. John glares at him. “Right. I'm sorry, John. I won't do it again.”

John hasn't decided yet if he's going to trust Alex or slip vervain to all of his friends, one way or another. “You also need to tell me what other shit you lied to me about this week.”

Alex nods, acknowledging that there is  _ other stuff _ he lied about, and then he says, “Lafayette isn't my half-brother. That's the only other lie; I did try to be as honest as possible with you.”

John's going to pretend he isn't flattered by Alex's attempt at honesty, considering Alex probably lies all the damn time because of his secret. Alex could be lying now to make him feel special. It's going to take more than a minute for John to get over the fracture Alex created in his trust with all of this vampire stuff. He knows  _ why _ Alex didn't tell him right away, which makes it easier to forgive him, but John's not the kind of person who can just forgive and forget in an instant. Are there even people that can do that?

“I'm guessing he's a vampire, too?” John asks, and Alex nods. “So if you're not related, why are you pretending to be? “

“We travel together. It's easiest to explain that with a familial bond. Besides, I've known him since before we were turned, and the same vampire sired us, so at this point we pretty much  _ are _ family.”

John remembers the tall, handsome man walking with Alex when John first spotted him, and he wonders if there was ever anything  _ unbrotherly  _ between them. But he doesn't ask because he doesn't want to come across as a jealous bitch. Alex has probably been with countless people in his two hundred and fifty plus years; John could drive himself nuts antagonising over all of them.

“You have some special connection to the vampire that turns you?” John asks instead.

“Not really. He's like a father to us, but we don't need to be around him or anything,” Alex says. “I've heard rumors of a sort of strange bond that happens when the vampire and the human they turn are lovers, but honestly, I think that's some romance novel bullshit.”

John's not sure Alex should be so scornful of romance novel bullshit. That sounds like their life now.

John opens his mouth to ask another question -  _ which vampire abilities are real? -  _ but his phone starts buzzing in his pocket insistently. He looks at Alex and murmurs, “Sorry,” to which Alex says, “Nah, it's cool.”

John turns on his phone to see he has about 15 unread texts from Marth and a missed call from his father.  _ Shit.  _ “It's my dad,” he tells Alex.

“Call him back,” suggests Alex. “Don't want you to get in trouble.”

John clicks redial and puts the phone to his ear. His dad answers on the second ring.  _ “John!” _

Alex stares the phone, and then he gives John a sympathetic look. Must've heard the shout. John just rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Dad.”

_ “Where are you?” _

“Out with a friend,” John answers, at which Alex arches an eyebrow.

_ “Friend, huh? Because I called your friend Hercules, and his grandmother seemed to think you were on a date.” _

John cringes. He doubts Nana meant to get him in trouble - she's too sweet of a lady for that, even if she is a little quirky - but he really wishes  _ Herc  _ would've answered the phone.

“Dad-”

_ “You can tell me about Alex when you get home,”  _ interrupts his father, sternly, but not quite angrily. John doesn't believe it. Could he be  _ okay  _ with John's attraction to men?  _ “But you do need to come home now because I want you to take Martha to get a haircut.” _

“I - she can drive,” John says, still stunned.

_ “I know, but the sheriff released a report this morning that a girl's missing, one of the Schuylers. I'd feel better if you kept an eye on your sister until the situation is cleared up. Alright?”  _ John watches Alex as his father speaks; he has no doubt that Alex can hear what his dad's saying. He notices how Alex sits up a little straighter at the mention of the missing Schuyler sister. John knows immediately that he had something to do with it.  _ What if he killed her? _

“Alright, Dad,” John says, “I'll be home soon.”

_ “You make sure to walk your girl to her door, John. Don't want anything to happen to her, either,”  _ says his dad, and then he hangs up.  _ His girl? _ John's confused… and then he realizes that his father was so chill because he thinks Alex is a  _ girl. _

Alex laughs, though John doesn't know if he finds the girl part or the needing someone to walk him to his door part funnier. He composes himself, flutters his eyelashes, and raises his voice to an obnoxious pitch: “Oh, John, protect me from the big, bad vampires!” He swoons theatrically against the door and bursts into another fit of laughter.

“So you  _ are  _ responsible for the missing Schuyler,” John accuses, and Alex stops laughing abruptly.

“Only partially,” admits Alex. “I bit her, I healed her, but she was the one who got herself killed.”

“She's a vampire?” John clarifies, ignoring the hot flare envy washes over him at the mention of Alex biting someone else.  _ It's how he eats, you moron, _ he scolds himself.

Alex nods. “Yeah. Problem is she can't go outside Vampires burn in the sunlight without enchanted lapis lazuli.” He holds up his hand, and John examines the ring on his index finger. It's blue and silver, which is pretty, but it's also simpler than John would've expected a magic ring to be. “Lafayette basically has her under house arrest right now anyway because new vampires can’t control the hunger.”

“Where do you get enchanted jewelry like that?” asks John.

“Witches,” Alex replies, and then he grins when John's eyes widen. “Yeah, they're real, and they're fucking powerful. They don't usually like vampires, though, which means Angelica is probably going to remain missing for the foreseeable future.”

“Can't she call and say she's gone to find herself?” John asks.

“As soon as Laf figures out how to make it look legitimate when the police undoubtedly peek further than they should, yeah, she will.” He pauses. “You know, it's weird.”

“What?”  _ What isn't weird _ is what John doesn't say.

“Angelica's been ‘missing’ since Tuesday night,” he says, and John wonders if Alex bit her before or after their date.  _ Stop.  _ “But no one, except her sister, said anything about it until now.”

That is odd. Not much happens in Liberty, so something like one of the Schuyler sisters going missing should be the gossip on everyone's lips. Lord knows the people around here talk about far less. John can't fathom what's inspired them to suddenly shut up, and in this case, it leaves him more unsettled than relieved. Missing persons are something people  _ should  _ discuss, in an effort to bring them home safely.

“Why would the police - or whoever - keep that quiet? How can they, even? Liberty's so small,” John asks, though he doesn't expect Alex to have any answers.

And yet, Alex does respond: “I think someone knows what Lafayette and I are.”


	8. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, i got sick in the middle of the week and then I started writing all this other stuff, but no worries, I'm still into this fic

John takes the vampire news well, Alex thinks. He's had some past partners react pretty badly -  _ badly _ as in they've tried to kill him - but John barely bats an eyelash. Alex thinks that might be the shock, but he isn't complaining. John didn't even break up with him.

In fact, they have another date the following weekend, and after that, Alex starts eating lunch with John and his friends. They seem alright, except maybe Hercules Mulligan, who gives him this  _ look.  _ Alex isn't sure what the look means, but it feels unfriendly. He's either gay for John, or he knows a little too much about Alex. Alex hopes it's the former.

But the girls are nice. Mattie grills him, making him answer all sorts of crazy questions, but Alex doesn't mind. He has his story down. Maria is much less invasive. Her questions center more around what he thinks of Liberty. Alex lies his way through every lunch period. 

Still, it's nice having friends other than Lafayette. Lafayette, who is slowly but surely starting to talk to him again. He's terrible at keeping up the cold shoulder act, which is good for Alex, because otherwise he'd be shunned into the next millennium. Angelica is also talking to him, which is cool because she'd probably get pretty bored sulking in the guest room all day. She called home a few days ago and said she was going off to “live her life,” and apparently, the police asked her if she'd been kidnapped four or five times. To which she said  _ no,  _ even though Alex is pretty sure that's technically a lie.

The three of them drink blood on the couch and fight over the remote, so that's fucking domestic. It's nice, though. Angelica's quick. She doesn't put up with their shit. Alex has always wondered what it'd be like to have a sister, and now he has one. Kind of.

The only problem is that Angelica has  _ actual _ siblings that miss her, and Alex feels a little bad whenever he see Eliza Schuyler in the halls, looking so sad and lost. John's friend Maria has a crush on Eliza; that was evident from day one, and she's very concerned about Eliza's well-being and Angelica's whereabouts. John doesn't say anything, of course, but he does press his mouth into a thin line whenever it comes up.

Alex really fucked this up.

It comes to a head a couple days after Alex's third date with John. Alex, Lafayette, and Angelica are watching _Grey’s Anatomy,_ and then Angelica goes into the kitchen because all the fake blood is making her hungry for real blood. And then there's screaming, and it takes him and Laf a second to realize it's not just the patient on TV screaming at one of the doctors to add to the drama. It's screaming in their kitchen.

Lafayette is slightly faster than Alex, he gets there first, and he throws Angelica off of the person she's eating so hard that she goes flying through the sliding glass door, which will be a pain in the ass to fix later. He catches the victim, a girl, and starts trying to revive her. The air smells like fresh blood, and Alex swipes his tongue over his teeth to keep them from itching. Turns out there are  _ two  _ people in the kitchen, the girl Angelica bit and Lafayette is now trying to save, and Eliza.

Eliza is crying; Alex would bet she was the one screaming, too.

“Is she going to be alright?” Alex asks Lafayette, in regards to the other girl, who he thinks might be Angelica's other sister, Peggy. He hasn’t met Peggy because she's still in middle school, but if Eliza's here…

_ “Je ne sais pas,”  _ Lafayette says, which isn't reassuring. Angelica wasn’t in here with them long, but Alex can chug a grown man in forty-five seconds on a good day. Laf presses his bloodied wrist to maybe-Peggy’s mouth, and Eliza gasps.

“What is he doing?” she asks in a small, shaky voice.

“Fixing her,” Alex says. Maybe-Peggy’s lost enough blood that she's unconscious, which is a bad sign.

Angelica climbs through the broken glass door, shards imbedded grotesquely in her skin, blood streaking across her clothes like a macabre art piece. Her wrist looks broken, but she shakes her hand, and Alex hears it  _ snap  _ back into place. Lafayette didn't mean to through her so hard, Alex knows, but that doesn't help with the pain. “I have a tree branch lodged under my shoulder blade,” she hisses, her face feral and her teeth bared.

“That is what you get for eating your  _ sœur,”  _ murmurs Lafayette unapologetically.

Angelica's eyes flash, a spark of remorse under that hellish vampire temper. That's impressive. It took Alex years to find that kind of regret after turning. “Eliza,” she says, “why did you two come here?”

“We missed you,” Eliza sobs, tears rolling down her face in heavy rivulets. “Y-you disappeared, we didn't- we didn't know what to think.”

Alex doesn't ask how Eliza knew where to find her sister. He can tell by the way the guilt on Angelica's face intensifies that she told them, somehow, probably to give them some peace of mind.

“Alexander,” Lafayette says softly, leaning away from definitely-Peggy. “You should take Eliza home.”

“No!” Eliza protests, but Angelica doesn't.

“Are you sure?” It's easy to start a fight between vampires when there's fresh blood hanging in the air. The animal part of Alex's mind is screaming at him to shove  _ Lafayette _ through a wall so that he can finish off Peggy himself. If he leaves, and Lafayette and Angelica start fighting…

“I can take her,” Lafayette reassures, although that isn't Alex's concern. “I can take her without killing her,” he amends.

“I'm right here,” Angelica huffs.

“When Peggy is healed, I will take her home,” Lafayette says, “but for now, I believe Eliza could use rest… and perhaps something to grant her peace of mind.” The last part is said pointedly; Alex knows that Lafayette is giving him permission to compel her. How generous of him.

“Wait,” says Eliza, “I-”

But Alex doesn't listen to her protests. He scoops her into his arms before she can blink, and she screams again because that's her  _ thing.  _ Then he goes out the newly-made  _ hole  _ in their home and starts running toward town. He hasn't ran this before, so he's not sure how long it'll take, but it seems like a hassle, fighting Eliza to get her in the car. And what if she's crazy enough to try and jump out?

She isn't crazy enough to try and jump from his arms; the death grip she’s digging into his arms is evidence of that. She stops screaming before they actually get into town, which is good because he would've had to compel her to shut up. Can't wake the locals. Not with someone suspicious.

Alex considers wiping her mind and leaving her in her room, but he's done that before, and it tends to cause problems if he suppresses traumatic events. He should probably let her relax and talk to her a little before he tries to erase anything. And then, maybe he should be selective about what he does erase.

Alex isn't sure whether he should blame Lafayette or John for this sudden influx of emotion and sympathy. Regardless of who's fault it is, it's fucking annoying.

He decides to blame John, mostly so he can feel completely guilt-free when he knocks on John's door five minutes later with a handful of Schuyler sister in his arms. Of course, it isn't John who answers the door; it's an older man who's probably John's father.  _ Fuck.  _ This night keeps getting better and better.

“What do you want?” he asks blearily, surveying Alex and Eliza with narrow eyes. Eliza doesn't say anything, but surprisingly, she curls closer to Alex.

“My… girlfriend fell… out of a tree,” Alex decides in the moment. He hopes that doesn't sound too stupid. “I think she's in shock.”

John's father glares at them. He's all hard angles and greying hair, but Alex can see the resemblance between him and John, a bit. The freckles, for one, and the curls, but Alex thinks that John needs to frown for the next thirty years for him to say they truly look  _ alike.  _ “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Uh, well, John's a friend of mine, so I thought I could maybe make a call from here. My phone's dead.” Alex isn't fucking dense; he knows John isn't out to his dad. He can avoid fucking  _ that _ up, at least.

John's dad scrutinizes Alex for a few more seconds before he says, “Alright.” And then he turns and motions for Alex to follow him inside. Which sucks. Because Alex can't just  _ walk _ into people's houses; he has to be invited in. It's one of those annoying vampire things.

“You coming?” asks John's father.

“I, uh-”

“Alex!” That's John's voice, thank  _ God, _ and suddenly John is in the doorway taking in the scene of Alex holding Eliza to his chest like she's a wounded animal.

_ “This  _ is Alex?” John's dad exclaims, shooting a deathly glare at his son, and John's eyes widen to the size of saucers, poor guy.

“Oh, I'm not  _ the  _ Alex,” says Alex quickly. “She's got a much better rack than me.”

“She's also less crude,” Eliza mumbles pointedly. It's the first thing she's said since they left his house, and it's reassuring. Alex thinks she might be okay after all.

It's also funny, which is why John's dad lets out a laugh that's riddled with relief. Because  _ heaven forbid _ he have a gay son, right? Alex is glad his hands are full; otherwise, he might punch the laugh off his face. John tries to laugh, too, but it comes out weak and awkward.

His dad ignores that, of course. “Help your friends,” he says, and then he disappears into the house.

When he's out of earshot, Alex says, “I can't come in unless you invite me.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Vampire thing?”

“You knew,” Eliza whispers, and John's teasing expression softens into regret, like he wanted to tell Eliza everything. He probably wants to tell  _ everyone  _ everything, but unfortunately, that'd end with a stake protruding from Alex's chest. If Alex wanted to die, he would've become a zombie, not a vampire. He's not going to let a little teenage guilt cost him his life, either.

“Yeah, he knew, and he couldn't tell you, or anyone else. My advice? Get over it. People keep secrets,” Alex says.

Eliza ignores him because she clearly doesn't care about how life-or-death this particular secret is. She looks directly at John and asks, “Did you know about Angelica?”

John looks away.  _ Goddammit, Eliza.  _ “Come in, Alex,” he mutters, and then he turns away from the door so Alex can follow him in. Now that Alex has an invitation into the Laurens household, he can come and go as he pleases. Not that he plans to break in or anything, but he'll probably climb through a window at some point. That's some vampire romance novel shit right there, and after all, isn't that where they're going with this relationship?

“What happened?” John asks as they walk into his house, down a hall, and up a flight of stairs. Alex doesn't answer him until they're in his room, which is sparsely decorated (Alex makes a note to comment on that later), with the door shut.

“Eliza and Peggy thought they'd drop by and see Angelica,” Alex says, setting Eliza gently on John's bed. “Angelica was, unfortunately, feeling rather ravenous at the time. She had almost an entire Peggy for dinner.”

“Don't talk about it like that,” Eliza admonishes. Alex rolls his eyes. Humans are so sensitive.

“Is Peggy alright?” asks John. His concern is cute. And that's a very good question.

“Lafayette was healing her when we left,” Alex tells him.

Eliza sits up on the bed and frowns. “He was feeding her his  _ blood.” _

“Vampire blood has healing properties,” John says absently. Alex smiles fondly. He once had a girlfriend who couldn't remember a thing about vampirism. She always offered him Sprite and freaked out every time she saw blood bags in the fridge.

“Oh, of course,” Eliza mutters sarcastically. “How could I forget that?”

“Why did you come here?” John asks, ignoring Eliza's quip.

“Sorry about that,” Alex says, scratching the back of his head. “Eliza needs to calm down before I can compel her.”

If looks could kill, Alex would've dropped dead from the one Eliza gives him. “You're going to to  _ what  _ to me?”

“He's going to make you forget about tonight,” John tells her before Alex can lie. He has a sprig of vervain on his nightstand, a single stalk, and he takes it in hand before he sits down beside Eliza on the bed. Alex stares at it; he's not surprised, but it still makes his heart sink a little that John feels like he needs to keep something to protect himself from vampires. It's not unwarranted, anyway. Alex wouldn't hurt John, but he's made plenty of enemies in his two-fifty plus years, and who knows if they'll find him here. Maybe he should get John a vervain-filled bracelet or something.

“You're not,” Eliza snaps, and she sounds pretty commanding, but Alex can't leave another person wandering around with the knowledge that vampires are real.

“I have to,” he says, his face a mask of seriousness, “it's in the vampire rulebook. Right after the part about keeping baby vamps away from humans.”

John and Eliza exchange a look, as if they can’t figure out if there's an actual vampire rulebook or not. Alex rolls his eyes so hard it's almost painful. “So what does the rulebook say about John knowing, then?”

“There's a special clause for my boyfriend,” Alex says.

“Alex's Boyfriend Clause, is that what it's called?” Eliza's almost as quick-witted as her sister; it's kind of funny.

“Alex's S.O. Clause,” he corrects.“I'm bi.”

“Pan,” says Eliza with a shrug of one shoulder. Fancy that.

“There are no straight people in the room,” murmurs John, sounding startled. Alex laughs. He's been in plenty of rooms where there aren't any straight people, and mostly likely so has John, especially if he's the only one in the room. It doesn't matter that much, and yet, maybe in a town like this, it does. Eliza is the first person he's met outside the city who's admitted to being pansexual.

“I'm not going to lie, I thought you were straight until you looked like you were going to die when your father said  _ ‘This  _ is Alex?’” Eliza says, glancing at John. Alex looks between the two of them; John seems to be bracing for a question that Eliza is too smart to ask. Thankfully.

“Yeah, well,” says John eventually, “I thought I was straight until recently, too.”

Eliza gives him a kind smile. “It's confusing, isn't it? I've had a crush on Maria Lewis since sixth grade, and when I told Angelica about it at the end of middle school, she asked if I was a lesbian. I spent three days Googling information on sexualities after that.”

Alex raises his eyebrows at John when Eliza says  _ Maria Lewis, _ and he hopes the  _ get in there and be a bro for your friend _ signal is clear. He makes a mental note not to erase this conversation from Eliza's memory. He can just… modify the circumstances. He'll have to ponder a reason why they’re suddenly hanging out.

“Maria's really gay for you, too, Eliza,” John says, and Alex gets this strong urge to shake him because he didn't mean like  _ that.  _ But then, it's effective enough.

Eliza goes stock-still. “She is?”

“I've only known her a week, and even I noticed,” Alex pipes up.

“You should ask her out,” John says.

“I will,” Eliza promises, a grin growing on her face. “Providing Alex doesn't take the memory of this conversation from me,” she adds, her smile fading as quickly as it'd come.

“I'll make sure you remember,” says Alex. He's going soft. It's incredibly embarrassing. Lafayette would be proud.  _ Goddammit. _

John's cell phone starts playing  _ Mr. Brightside,  _ which admittedly isn't the ringtone Alex would've guessed he'd have. He jumps up and scrambles for his phone, which teetering on the edge of his nightstand before he snatches it. “Hello?”

Alex can hear Lafayette's voice on the other end of the line:  _ “Is Alexander there?” _

“Yeah, he's standing right in front of me,” says John, looking Alex in the eye. “How'd you get my number?”

_ “I took it from Alexander's phone. John, if you could tell him that I have returned Peggy Schuyler to her home and that she and Angelica are both alright, I would appreciate that. And also, if you could remind him that I asked him to take Eliza home?”  _ Lafayette couldn't have asked to talk to Alex directly. No way. Because that wouldn't have been humiliating enough. Instead, the message has to go through his boyfriend, even though Lafayette  _ knows _ he heard everything he just told John. Asshole. Self-righteous asshole.

John, for his part, looks a little uncomfortable. “Um. Sure. I'll tell him.”

_ “Merci,”  _ says Lafayette, and then he hangs up.

John opens his mouth to relay Lafayette's message, but Alex raises a hand. “I heard him.”

“You could hear that?” Eliza questions.

Alex motions to his ears. “Vampire hearing. Peggy's alright, by the way.”

“Thank goodness,” Eliza says, letting out a heavy breath. “Tell Lafayette I said thank you, please, Alex.” She stands up and adds, “And thank you, John, for letting us in though we showed up at seven in the evening. Alex, I'm ready for you to - to take me home, and do whatever you must to my memory.”

She puts on a brave face that Alex can't help but admire, and then she holds out her arms. It takes a second for him to realize that she's waiting for him to pick her up again, but when he does, he takes her back into his arms easily. She's ridiculously light.

“Why don't you carry me around?” John asks without the barest hint of jealously in his tone. Secure in his position already, then. Alex thinks he's cute. And fucking hot. Simultaneously.

“I'll carry you around tomorrow. Bridal-style. Through the halls,” Alex promises.

John bats his eyelashes like he's a dainty Southern belle or some shit, and then he goes over the top by exaggerating his accent when he says, “Oh, Alexander, I'd  _ love  _ to be your bride.”

Eliza giggles. Alex tries to laugh himself, but that entire sentence is actually a turn-on, from the way John draws out his full name to the word  _ love  _ to the thought of John in a wedding dress. So really, he ends up sputtering, and then Eliza and John laugh at  _ him. _

“Alright, time to go,” he mutters, annoyed that something vampires  _ can  _ do is blush. He feels his face heat up. “See you tomorrow, John.”

“Bye, Alex, Eliza.”

Alex carries Eliza down the stairs and out into the evening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Je ne sais pas. - I don't know.  
> sœur - sister  
> Merci. - Thank you.


	9. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many of y'all would read a short fic from vampire!Washington's perspective?

Marth makes a smoothie for breakfast every morning. She gets up early, chops up a disgusting amount of fruit, and wakes everyone in the house with the noise of the blender. It annoys John to no end; he's a diva about his beauty sleep, and he  _ will  _ cut a bitch.

Except he's having trouble sleeping these days, and it's not Marth's blender that's the problem. It sounds childish, but monsters in the dark are truly keeping him awake. John isn't afraid of Alex, exactly. He's a bit… nervous about dating a vampire, but he feels like he'd be nervous anyway, because Alex is better-looking than him, and because he's constantly worried that his dad's going to hear something. He thought he outed himself last night when Alec and Eliza showed up, but after they left, all his father asked was if Eliza was alright.

He can't answer that question - and he's genuinely concerned for Eliza's well-being, because she seemed a bit  _ too  _ calm yesterday, given the circumstances - but it’s better than  _ are you gay for that boy? _

But, on the note of his recently disrupted sleep, John supposes that he's afraid of other vampires, other supernatural creatures that may or may not exist. Alex says that witches are real. Are werewolves? Zombies? Ghosts? Knowing they're out there (or that they might be) probably doesn't make him more or less likely to be attacked by them, but it was a lot easier to ignore the scratching sound outside his window when he thought he was at the top of the food chain. Although it is a little reassuring to know that vampires can't come inside without an invitation.

John carries a small amount of vervain with him. It's strange that Alex doesn't seem to notice. John thought vampires had heightened senses; shouldn't he be able to smell it? Or does that not apply to things that hurt them? That seems like one hell of a drawback.

Alex shakes him, when he shows up with Eliza. When he says Angelica Schuyler bit her own sister, could've easily killed her. John doesn't think that Alex is trying to make him feel unsafe, but that's what he's doing. John knows too much.

He wakes up early, even though he stayed up all night thinking about sisters and monsters. He beats Marth to the kitchen for once. She jumps when she walks in and realizes he's there: “John, what the fuck?”

“Good morning to you, too,” he says sarcastically.

“Who are you, and what have you done with John?” she demands as she gathers her fruit. Bananas, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, a bit of orange, a bit of lemon. She grabs milk, too - and vanilla ice cream from the freezer.

“Do you want some?” she asks when she notices him watching her get her ingredients. “Is  _ that  _ why you're awake so early?”

“Sure,” he says, and she takes that a ‘yes’ to both questions. “Can we put this in it?” John holds up some of his vervain; he ground it up this morning, and although it's too purple and moist to be weed, Marth still asks:

“Is that a weird strand of pot or something, John?”

It's nice to know she's not doing any illegal drugs, he supposes. “No, it's a herbal supplement I got from Nana Mulligan.” That's almost the truth.

Marth takes the bag of ground vervain from his hands and asks, “What does it taste like?”

Honestly, it's bitter. But he doesn't think she'll be able to taste that over the fruit in her smoothie. She has classes with Alex and Lafayette. John barely knows Lafayette, doesn't know Alex much better. He doesn't think they'll hurt her, but in case they try…

“Why are you taking herbal supplements from Nana?” Marth asks suspiciously, although she pulls a teaspoon out of the drawer and scoops some vervain into it.

“What, you think these muscles just happened?” John says, flexing one of his arm. His biceps look good in this t-shirt. Self-confidence on point.

Marth raises an eyebrow. “Are you giving me nature’s steroids?’

“Yeah, that's it. Get fit, Martha,” he deadpans.

Marth blends the the fruit concoction in the blender, and John grabs them two glasses. She pours the smoothies and hands one to him. It's good. He can't taste the vervain.

***

Sometimes John skips. His father doesn't care too much, providing his grades don't drop. So when Herc catches him before first period and says, “Hey, I've something important to talk to you about,” it's easy for him to reply, “Let's skip first.” Herc considers it for a second, and the he nods. They duck out the front door while the first bell crowd flows in, and they head to Herc's van.

Herc likes to drive, so John assumes they'll drive aimlessly for an hour or so, but they actually just drive outside of town a little ways, in the direction of Alex's house. Herc parks them in the middle of a fucking field, because he's weird like that, and then he reaches over the seat and drags a huge book out of his backpack.

“A book is something important?” John asks skeptically. He and Herc aren't the most enthusiastic readers; John is pretty picky about the books he reads for leisure. And from the yellow of the pages and the fraying of the leather binding, it's an old book. John isn't really into historical shit like Herc is, so he's not sure where this is going.

And then Herc says it: “I think Alex Hamilton and long-ass name Lafayette are vampires.”

John doesn't gasp, but he doesn't need to, because Herc takes one look at his face and says, “You knew that.”

“Alex told me last week,” John admits. “But how did you know?”

Herc doesn't answer verbally. He sets the book on his lap and opens it; John notices with some interest that it has no title. Herc carefully flips through the pages until he's about a quarter of the way in. John catches glimpses of the inky illustrations, of the hand-penned notes. He sees words like “charm,” “spell,” “curse.” He sees wolves howling at the moon, goblins pinching gold, dragons atop hoards. John realizes with a growing sense of trepidation he's looking at a very old spellbook.

“This is my family's grimoire,” Herc says softly when he stops turning pages. The word  _ Vampire _ is written in pristine cursive across the top. There's a drawing of a masculine face, altered with the prominent veins, yellowed eyes, and sharp fangs that Alex showed him in real life a week ago. Then, there's a detailed description of vampires, what they can and can't do, what they eat, how they hunt, how to hurt them, kill them…

John tears his eyes away from the words  _ wooden stake through the heart _ and looks at Herc. In retrospect, it isn't shocking that Nana is a witch. She's certainly eccentric enough - and that explains all the random crap cluttering her house. It  _ is,  _ however, surprising that Herc knows. He's always brushed off the supernatural; has he always known?

“You're a witch. Or a warlock. Or a wizard, I don't fucking know the masculine term,” John says.

“I'm a witch,” Herc confirms. “I come from a long line of witches.” He motions to the spell book - the  _ grimoire,  _ he called it.

“How long have you known?” whispers John. He's almost afraid to hear the answer. What if Herc's always known? What if he's always hidden it?

Does John know anyone?

“Since the middle of sophomore year,” Herc says, and that's a long time, but it's not as long as John feared. “Remember that week I was out sick? My mysterious illness was actually a magical fluctuation. I kept turning inanimate objects into birds and small rodents. That's where my sister's pet rats came from.”

John imagines Herc reaching for the TV remote, and it turning into a rat. He can't help it; he bursts out laughing. Herc laughs with him, and that feels nice. Normal, just for a moment.

The moment passes quickly. “John,” says Herc in a serious tone, after their laughter dies. John's had enough of the Serious Tone. His life could use a little chill. “We need to do something about the vampires.”

John sighs.  _ Wooden stake through the heart.  _ He can't do that. The thought of Alex dying, really dying, makes him go cold. Sure, he's scared of all he's learned and all he still doesn't know, and John's a big enough man to admit that to himself. But that doesn't change the way he feels about Alex. It's too early to call it love, so John leaves it nameless. And that nameless feeling screams at him to  _ protect Alex _ in any way that he can.

“Herc,” John says slowly, “please leave Alex and his brother alone.”

Herc gives him a long, sad look that makes John's heart sink. He shakes his head, ever so slightly. “I… should've told you about this sooner,” he says, patting the grimoire. “I'm sorry about that, John, I really am. I never knew how to bring it up. But you gotta understand that no matter what Alex said to you, he's a monster. I bet he's killed countless innocent people. Hell, I think he killed Angelica Schuyler.”

It's crossed his mind. That Alex has killed people. John isn't fucking stupid. Vampires  _ eat _ people. Alex said himself that the hunger is difficult to control, especially for younger vampires. Angelica bit her own sister yesterday. Almost killed her.

The rational thing to do would be to go with Herc's vampire eradication plan, whatever that might entail. His self-preservation instincts are telling him to go with Herc. Screaming at him.  _ Alex is bad. _

But there's something bad in John, too. Something dark and twisted. It's the same something that made him feel hot the other day when he thought about Alex's bite. It's the part that turns fear into excitement when he sees Alex. It's what keeps him from worrying, like better man would, about all those lost innocents that Alex probably did kill. “He didn't kill Angelica. She wrecked her car,” John mutters, “and she's alive.”

Herc crosses his arms over his chest. “So you've seen her?”

“No, but Eliza saw her yesterday,” John says, though if Herc asks Eliza to follow up on that, his argument falls apart, because Alex also compelled her yesterday. 

“You expect me to believe that she's actually off soul-searching?” Herc asks, like  _ John's _ an idiot for trusting Alex. Maybe John is an idiot for trusting Alex, but in this particular instance, he thinks Alex is telling the truth.

“She's at Alex’s,” John says, exasperated, “she crashed her car after he healed her and died. She's a vampire, now. You wanna go stake Angelica Schuyler, huh?”

Herc stares at him for a moment. His expression has become guarded, unreadable. “She doesn't have daylight jewelry,” he says after a moment, more to himself than John, who already went over the daylight jewelry thing with Alex.

“Yeah.”

“That means they probably hunt at night,” Herc murmurs. “If they've taken her under their wings.” John doesn't like the sound of that comment. It sounds as if he's storing the information so that he can burst in and surprise the vampires somehow. John doesn't know when Alex hunts; they haven't exactly discussed his eating habits in depth.

“Look, Angelica's death was an accident,” John says, “so Alex and Lafayette haven't done anything wrong that you can prove.”

“First of all, I don't trust anything Alex says. He easily could've killed her and lied to you about it. Second, even if he was telling the truth, I have over three hundred years worth of Mulligan witches telling me right here that there's not a vampire out there that hasn't killed anyone. That's the kind of shit they write in these books, John, right next to the spells that harm vampires. They didn't just create these hexes for fun, for fuck’s sake,” Herc says, and now he's the exasperated one.

“I'm sure there are some vampires that actually haven't hurt anyone,” John says feebly. He just doesn't think they're Alex. Maybe Lafayette, though.

“Did you just say ‘not all vampires’?” Herc's incredulous.

“Yeah, and I'll say it again if it keeps you from stabbing my boyfriend, who you can’t prove killed anyone,” John snaps tartly.

Herc looks as frustrated as John feels. “You want me to wait for someone else to get seriously hurt? Angelica dying or becoming a vampire isn't enough?” John tries not to wince at the thought of Peggy.  _ Lafayette  _ was the one who saved her. Lafayette, the vampire.

John sighs. “Herc, let's say Alex and Lafayette are incredibly evil.”

He's obviously setting up a hypothetical, but Herc snorts humorlessly and mutters, “You don't have to convince me.”

“Let's say they're evil, and I agree that we should ‘take care of them,’ which I don't,” John continues, “what the fuck do you propose we, two bitchass teenagers, do against a couple of two hundred and fifty year old vampires?”

“That's where my magic comes in,” Herc answers, but he doesn't elaborate, and it takes John a long moment to realize that he isn't going to. He doesn't trust John anymore, not with this. John wishes that didn't hurt so much. He feels stupid, letting a vampire come between him and his best friend, but at the same time, he can't just let Herc kill Alex and Lafayette. Or let Alex and Lafayette kill Herc, actually, because he sees that as the more likely outcome of a fight between the three of them.

“I'm going to tell him that you're coming for him,” John says eventually.

Herc grabs John's arm, picks up his hand, and lays his own hand over John's. He closes his eyes and murmurs something under his breath, and John feels a burst of energy wash over him. It travels from head-to-toe like an electric shock, but it's warm, not painful.  _ Magic. _

“What did you do?” John asks, and his words come out a little more accusing than he intended. But vampires have their compulsion; surely witches have some tricks to take people's free will as well, and John isn't keen on losing his. Especially not when things look life and death.

“I thought he compelled you,” he says, but John hears  _ hoped.  _ Herc hoped that Alex compelled him into defending him. John feels reassured that Alex hasn't tampered with his mind now. That's a relief. “Did he tell you about compulsion?”

“Yes,” John says.

“And that doesn't bother you?”

“A lot of shit  _ bothers _ me, Herc,” John snaps, “but he said he wouldn't do that to me, and I trust him.” That's mostly true. It's true enough that John feels alright being defensive about it.

Herc screws up his features. John thinks he's going to protest, maybe he can see that John has some trust issues regarding Alex. But what he actually says catches John off guard: “Are you letting him eat you, John?”

John goes to say ‘no,’ but what comes out is, “Not yet.”

“But you're planning on it,” Herc concludes.

John shrugs a shoulder. He can't look at Herc anymore, so he stares out the window at a couple of trees.

“Why?” Herc asks, relentless.

“Why not? Better if he has a consenting meal, right? Takes away a lot of your justification for killing anyone,” John says.

Herc doesn't say anything, but John can feel the frustration and judgment radiating off of him. John still doesn't look at him. He's pissed, too, and fucking confused. He needs a moment. More than a moment. His world is tipping, goddammit.

John checks his phone. There's a text from Maria asking where he is, so he texts her back to say that he and Herc skipped. Maria responds with an excited text about how Eliza asked her out between first and second period.

“Maria has a date with Eliza,” John mumbles, and then he adds, a bit pettily, “thanks to Alex.”

Herc rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He turns the key in the ignition, starts the van back up, and they drive back to school in silence.


	10. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there's a lot of mentions of death, biting, blood, and sexual undertones in this chapter, so if that grosses you out or it's triggering in any way, please read carefully.

Alex has experienced every type of Saturday night out there, from parties to one night stands to school and work related all nighters. He's stayed in and watched movies, he's gone to clubs, he's gone riding, he's spied on enemy forces in more than one war, he's passed out and ended up half-naked in the Hudson. He's done everything and nothing on Saturday nights, and he'd be lying if he said that the  _ best _ night is the one that's currently happening, but making out with John Laurens in his bed is certainly near the top of Alex's Saturday night experiences.

For someone so young, John is a decent kisser. He lets Alex take the lead, and he doesn't drool or try and shove his tongue down Alex's throat. He  _ does _ make adorable little noises when Alex nibbles on his lip, which vibrate downward from their connected mouths and make Alex reconsider his decision to wait for the end of October to go further. But then, John's birthday is only a month away. A month isn't long.

The only drawback about kissing John is that he has to breathe occasionally. He pulls away, panting like he's just run a marathon, and he gives Alex a look somewhere between fuck you and  _ fuck you.  _ Alex grins at him.

“Breathing's overrated, huh?” John says.

“Entirely,” agrees Alex. Breathing is one of those annoying things humans have to do that he doesn't miss, just like sleeping. Although he does find the sound of those humans processes, the breathing, the heartbeat, calming.

“Yeah, that sounds like something a man who climbs through people's windows would say,” John teases. He lets himself fall backwards on his bed, pillows letting out a  _ thump  _ of protest.

“What, that's not romantic?” Alex jokes back. Like John didn't open the window for him, didn't call him and tell him to come over. Scaling homes isn't a vampiric skill because of the invitation rule, but Alex still managed to make it up here for John. And now, this  _ abuse.  _ Alex likes this banter he and John have between them. It's familiar. Intimate, even.

“It's very  _ Romeo and Juliet,” _ says John, “so no.”

“You don't wanna be my Juliet?” Alex gasps dramatically. Truthfully, he's glad John knows that  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ isn't the great love story everyone says it is. Alex has met countless of (otherwise bright) teenagers that talk about how romantic it is without a hint of irony. It's cringe-worthy.

John must agree because he throws a pillow at Alex in response. Alex catches the pillow in one hand, and his boyfriend raises his eyebrows and mutters, “Show-off.”

“I am,” Alex says happily. He throws the pillow on the floor and lies down on the bed next to John, takes his hand in his own. Not the most high-energy Saturday ever. But high-energy isn't everything.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Alex's mind, which is constantly overflowing with new thoughts and ideas, is surprisingly slow this evening. The change of pace is relaxing, especially in the face of all that's happened in the past couple of weeks, between John and Angelica and some unknown person possibly knowing about vampires.

“Alex,” John says eventually. Alex doesn't know how long they've been laying there, doesn't know how long he's been absently staring at the side of John's face. John is staring at the ceiling himself, which seems far less interesting than Alex's view. But then, John can't stare at himself.

“Hmm?”

“You know my friend Herc?” That isn't what Alex is expecting, although he did notice some tension between John and his friend at lunch this week. Since the day after the incident with the Schuyler sisters, now that Alex thinks about it…

“Yeah?”

“He’s a witch,” says John awkwardly. He always sounds like that when he talks about the supernatural: vaguely uncomfortable and vaguely puzzled.

“A witch?” Alex repeats. He isn't expecting  _ that,  _ either. How did they stumble onto a town that happened to have a Jack Laurens look-alike  _ and  _ a young witch in it? There's something fishy about Liberty, and it makes the hairs on the back of Alex's neck stand up. He doesn't like to be ignorant of his surroundings.

“Yeah,” says John, “I just found out. He, um, knows you're a vampire. I didn't tell him, though. He had this grimoire that has all these descriptions of supernatural creatures - why didn't you tell me that dragons are real, by the way?”

Despite himself, Alex laughs. It's concerning that there's a witch in town with an archaic grimoire containing  _ dragons  _ (because who knows what other outdated shit is in there), but John just sounds so  _ hurt  _ about the dragons that he can't help the laughter.

“They're extinct, John. They've been extinct since about 1800. I've seen one before, though, when I was young. Before I was turned.” Washington had a dragon when Alex met him. It'd been given to him by someone important, though Alex can't remember who.

“Oh.” John shakes off the disappointment of dragon extinction. “Um, well, I think he's going to try and kill you.”

Alex blinks. A baby witch is going to try and kill him? Young witches are strong, Alex knows, but they can't usually focus their magic well enough to get much done, especially if they don't have a mentor. “I'm not worried about him. Are there any other witches around, though?” Older witches could fry him from fifty miles away if they concentrated hard enough.

“I think his grandmother is a witch, too,” admits John. Alex sighs. He's going to have to go negotiate with this witch then, preferably as soon as possible. Witches can be reasoned with; they're just usually difficult.

“Can they hurt you?” John asks.

Alex almost lies to him. Almost. “I don't think Herc can. His grandmother probably can, though. I'll go talk to her tomorrow, see if we can work out some sort of deal.”

John frowns. Alex doesn't want him to be worried or unhappy, but witches can be dangerous. Better he knows the truth about what's going on around him. “I tried to convince him not to do anything. ‘S why I didn't tell you earlier.”

“Okay,” Alex says, although that's kind of concerning. If John can't convince his best friend to stand down, them how the hell is Alex going to convince an old woman to? Hopefully she's more reasonable than her grandson.

“Hey, Alex,” John says, eyes still glued to the ceiling, “how often do you… hunt?”

Alex sits up and props his elbow on one of the remaining pillows. “I don't.”

John glances over at him. “You don't? How do you eat? What about Angelica?”

“Angelica was a mistake,” Alex tells him. “Normally, Lafayette and I drink out of blood bags that we steal from various hospitals and blood drives.”

Most humans accept that answer; some even find it noble. John, naturally, frowns again: “Don't sick and injured people need those?”

“We don't take the entire supply,” Alex says. “Besides, humans take excessively from other creatures; we're only taking the bare minimum for survival, in order to minimize the number of humans that get killed accidentally in feedings gone wrong. I think it's pretty nice of us.”

John looks like he doesn't know what to think. He needs time to adjust, and Alex is doing his best to give him that. But really, stealing blood bags from blood banks is the least of Alex's crimes.

“How much blood do you need a day?”

“Eh, a pint or two,” Alex says. It depends on how hungry he is, which in turn depends on how stressed or active he is. He usually goes through a couple of blood bags a day, and so does Lafayette; between the two of them, that's like three to three and a half gallons per week. He's known humans to go through more gallons of milk than that a week.  

Humans have just over a gallon or so of blood in them, so back when they had to hunt people, Alex sometimes sucked his victims dry, and then he didn't have to eat for about three days. As it turns out, though, killing two people a week raises suspicions. Better to have a pool of humans and take a pint from a different person every day; after all, that's no more than they take at a blood drive.

Alex has given this particular topic a great amount of thought.

“Could you drink from me every day?” asks John, and  _ fuck,  _ where did  _ that  _ come from?

“No,” Alex says. “It takes about a  month for just a pint of blood to replace itself.” Takes longer if there’s never any vampire blood in a person’s system to kickstart the process. “If if I were going to drink from you, I’d only take a little - not even a cup - and I wouldn't do it often.” Which is, perhaps, overly cautious. But Alex has unintentionally killed a couple of his partners who enjoyed doubling as snacks. He's not about to make that mistake here. Not with John.

“Oh,” says John, and he sounds oddly dejected.

“Do you want me to drink from you?” Alex asks.

John gives a little shrug. “I think I'd like it,” he says, though he doesn't elaborate on why.

Alex certainly would like it. There's something erotic about a human who volunteers their blood; Alex doesn't know if that's because all of the humans that have volunteered their blood to him have been romantic partners, or if that's the way it is for all vampires. In any case, it  _ is  _ a pretty intimate act - and it requires an insane amount of trust.

“You know I'm dangerous,” Alex hedges. He feels obligated to remind him of that fact.

“I know,” John says. “But I don't think you'll hurt me.”

“That's incredibly naïve of you,” Alex tells him, because it's true.

“Yeah, well, if you do hurt me, I imagine I'll be too incapacitated - or dead - to feel like an idiot about it,” John says, sounding a bit annoyed. “Are you telling me that you've never stopped feeding on someone before you've hurt them?”

“No, but it's different when you ask for it,” Alex points out. “If I pull away, and you ask for more, I won't be able to resist that.” Alex knows his own limits and faults, at least.

“That's fine. You know your limits, I can respect that,” John says, rather diplomatically. “I won't ask for more than you can safely give.”

Alex bites his lip with his blunt, normal teeth. The real question is if he can manage to do anything safely. John smells good, sweet, healthy - everything Alex looks for in a bite, and he doesn't want to get distracted and drink too much. He probably drank too much the when he fed from Angelica; it's crossed his mind that the blood loss could’ve contributed to her crash.

Alex doesn't want to dwell on that possibility.

John sits up and fiddles with the button on his shirt. They were supposed to go out to dinner in the city, but John's father went out with some friends last minute and told John to stay and watch the kids, hence Alex coming over and climbing through the window. Of course, all the kids are in bed now. Except John's sister, Marth, who is watching Netflix on the couch. She doesn't seem to like Alex (though he can't fathom what he did to deserve that), but she agreed to leave them be and say nothing.

Though they couldn't go out, the dark button down isn't wasted on John. And when he unbuttons the top two buttons and tilts his head back to bare his neck and collarbone, Alex's mouth waters. He can hear John's heartbeat, a little faster than normal from excitement or nerves, but probably a combination of the two.

“You want me to bite your neck?” Alex says, and it's stupid because the answer is obviously  _ yes. _

“Where else would you bite?” John asks. Alex watches his jaw move with interest. Dammit, he's fucking smitten.

“Your wrist would hurt less,” Alex says, though he's not sure why. He prefers to drink from the neck.

“Alex.”

“Yeah?”

“Just fucking bite me.” Well, Alex can't resist a command like that. His fangs fill out, and he sinks them into the soft, warm skin of John's neck. John makes a startled noise, probably from the pain, but his hand immediately files to Alex's hair, and he groans something like  _ please, don't stop. _

If it wouldn't kill John, Alex would never stop. His blood is beyond refreshing, it's like water to a man dying of thirst, and its taste is beyond delicious, beyond any description Alex can think of with his mouth and mind so preoccupied by  _ John.  _ He tastes like Jack, Alex can't help but notice, but there's also a uniquely  _ John _ tang to his blood. It reminds him, absurdly, of cinnamon.

Alex pulls away too soon, way sooner than he'd like, and he immediately crawls off the bed and puts himself in the corner of the room because he  _ needs a minute.  _ John's blood is still in his mouth, on his tongue, across his lips. He's good. Oh fuck, he's  _ too  _ good. Alex closes his eyes. He doesn't need to breath, but he still has lungs that function well enough for him to take a deep, calming breath for the sake of its relaxing quality.

Alex looks over at John. He's collapsed on the bed, probably dropped like a ragdoll as soon as Alex ran, and he’s breathing hard. He has a hand clamped over the fang marks on his neck. Blood seeps between his fingers, and Alex can smell it as if he's some sort of fucking land shark. He needs to go back over there, to fix John, but he's afraid that if he moves, he'll drink John dry.  _ Fuck. _

(Alex is really trying to ignore how much of a turn on this is, but that, among other  _ things,  _ is fucking hard.)

“Fuck,” John moans aloud. “Fuck, _ Alex.”  _

“Stop,” Alex says weakly, “that's a good way to get me to fuck you or kill you.” Alex doesn't want to kill him ever. Doesn't want to fuck him until October twenty-eighth.

“Sorry,” says John, in a tone that sounds like he isn't sorry at all. Fucking teenagers, they always think they're invincible.

“Don't move,” Alex tells him, and then he steels himself starts walking over to the bed. The smell of blood is heavy in the air, so Alex closes his mouth to make it less overpowering. His fangs cut through his lip.

He manages to bring his wrist to his mouth and bite through the skin, and the rush of his own blood into his mouth is a foul-tasting wake up call that snaps him out of the haze John's blood left him in. He holds out his wrist to John, who grimaces at it, but tentatively puts his lips to it.  

“You need to drink some of it,” Alex urges.

John drinks a swallow of Alex's blood, and then he pulls his bloody fingers away from his neck as the puncture wounds there heal and fade away. “Wanna lick my fingers?” John asks with a stupid smile.

“Do you want to die?” Alex deadpans.

“No,” says John, which is a relief to hear, “I just have weird kinks, I guess.”

Yeah, Alex can relate to that. Although, biting - even hard, skin-breaking biting - is far from the weirdest thing he's encountered. “Why don't you go wash that blood off you?” Alex suggests, look away from John to distract himself from the splotches of dark red smeared across John's neck and hand. 

John gets up and goes over to the door, opens it, and slips out into the hall. Alex hopes that Marth's still downstairs, and that he doesn't run into her.

Alex sits down on the bed and runs a hand through his hair. John's going to be the second death of him - or the first death of himself. Alex doesn't know if he'll be able to  _ that  _ again without doing something stupid. They're going to have to have a  _ talk _ about it, but he isn't sure he's up for that tonight.

The door  _ clicks  _ open, and John's back, smelling considerably more bearable without fresh blood all over him. “Alex? Are you alright?” he asks.

Alex laughs humorlessly. “Shouldn't I be asking you that?”

“I'm fine,” John says, sitting down next Alex and taking his hand. “But you don't have to be. If you're worried about killing me, we won't do it again.” He says it so casually.  _ He  _ should be worried about Alex killing him. Alex doesn't know what he did to warrant so much of John's trust. He's not a good guy. He doesn't really deserve anyone's trust.

“Can we talk about it later?” Alex asks, and John nods. “When will your dad be home?”

John sighs. “Soon, probably. But you don't have to go yet, if you don't want to.” Alex isn't dense. It sounds like John very clearly wants him to stay, but…

“I should probably go.”

“Alright,” says John, and he lets go of Alex's hand. Alex is cold without John's touch. It's funny because he's never cared much about the temperature difference between him and humans and the air around them. But John's warm, and Alex likes that. For some reason.

“I'll text you,” Alex promises, and he gives John a chaste kiss before heading for the window.

“You can use the door now,” John laughs.

“Where's the fun in that?” Alex says, and he climbs out the second-story window on principle.

Alex should run home, but he starts out walking to clear his head. He's been with a lot humans over the years, and he's never been as concerned about any of them as he is about John. He's not sure if that's because John reminds him of Jack, and Jack died too soon, far too soon, or if it's just something about John himself. He would've said Jack a week ago, definitely just because of Jack, but now he isn't sure. John's his own person, and he's a great person, but he's young, and Alex is terrified that he's going to fuck this boy up like he fucks up everything. He doesn't want to do that. But he's not the fucking vampire from Twilight; he can't just walk away under the pretense of doing “the right thing.” Alex doesn't often know what the right fucking thing even  _ is. _

Alex walks by the high school, which is barely illuminated by streetlights, and sighs. Maybe they shouldn't have come here, he thinks, but he feels sick at the thought of not knowing John. It's the stupidest shit - it hasn't even been a month.

Alex is lost in thought. He doesn't know what could've happened if he was paying attention - and honestly, he's not one to dwell on  _ what ifs.  _ Because he is distracted, and the pain hits him out of nowhere, out of nothing. It explodes from his head and travels downward, burning through his body like fire. He screams, and his knees buckle but he doesn't fall because

there's someone behind him how did they get behind him  _ fuck _ what is that how does it hurt so much he's going to implode but that person behind him catches him blood

more pain but now it's in his stomach and Alex looks down,  _ goddammit,  _ there's a wooden stake through his stomach, the sharp end glittering with his blood, stabbed someone stabbed him who the hell could  _ stab  _ him from behind maybe the witches-

“Hamilton,” drawls a voice far too gleefully, slicing through Alex's agony like a knife. Alex knows that voice, he knows it, that's a Southern drawl, that's Virginia.

_ “Jefferson,”  _ he hisses brokenly, and then there's nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry for any of this feel free to scream at me about it in the comments


	11. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. 
> 
> I just had the worst week and a half, but that's all behind me now, and I'm hoping to go back to my 1-2 updates a week. (Although maybe I'll have to take another long break in mid-June - sorry). 
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter. I know I don't always say it, but I appreciate all of you comments and kudos and overall support! Y'all rock.

John runs his fingers over skin of neck for the millionth time since Alex left an hour ago. It's smooth, like it was never torn in the first place. Such are the magical healing powers of vampire blood.

John feels the same, and yet not.

He supposes he expected something monumental to happen after Alex bit him, like a cosmic shift or a colliding of their souls or whatever sappy shit happens in romance novels. That didn't happen,  _ obviously,  _ but John does feel like his trust in Alex is stronger now. Alex could've easily killed him tonight, and he'll admit how incredibly fucking reckless it was for him push against Alex's warnings, but John thinks that this was a necessary step in their relationship. All future incidents where Alex might have to be around his blood shouldn’t be as difficult, because now they both know that he can control himself.John’s intense biting kink is just a bonus.

The bite hurt, John will admit. But that pain, the slight fear of dying,  _ Alex  _ flooding his senses - John doesn't know why, but that combination gave him something like a high. (Endorphins, maybe? John doesn't know; he slept through freshman biology.) He feels a little light-headed now, but otherwise he's fine.

If he could, he doesn't think he'd mind feeding Alex every day.

John lies in bed for awhile, mind pleasantly clear. He's not too tired, and he's trying to wait up for that text Alex promised, so he just drifts a bit. It's relaxing, peaceful even.

And then, oddly enough, the doorbell rings.

It takes a moment for John to register the sound, where the hell it came from and what it was, but yeah, that was definitely the doorbell at ten-thirty at night. John would wonder what kind of douchebag does that, but honestly, it's probably one of his dad's friends. Which makes it worse, because those pricks know there are kids trying to sleep in the house.

John rolls out of bed and makes his way downstairs. Marth's standing in the foyer with her hand over her mouth, in mid-yawn. The bell clearly woke her - she must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. “You expecting anyone?” she mumbles sleepily.

“No,” John says, “but don't worry about it, I'll get it. Go bed.” Marth doesn't protest. She just yawns again and heads up the stairs.

John walks over to the door and flips the porch light on before he unlocks it and opens it up.

“Do you know what time it is?” he gripes before he even sees who's there. 

“Ten forty-five, give or take a minute,” answers the stranger behind the door, unaffected by John's mood. He's a little taller than John, his skin is considerably darker, and his head is closely shaved. John doesn't recognize him, which is kind of weird, because the stranger doesn't look much older than him. John's pretty sure he knows all the people around his age that live in Liberty and the surrounding towns.

John frowns. Strangers on the doorstep late at night don't exactly inspire warm and fuzzy feelings. He's starting to think he should've stayed in bed. “Do you need something…?”

“Yes, actually,” says the stranger. “You’re John, I assume?” His tone, and the look he gives him, makes John think that his question wasn't so much of a question at all. He seems to recognize John, somehow. That just makes John more suspicious of this interaction.

“And you are?” John asks shortly.

The stranger holds out his hand. “Aaron Burr.”

John stares at Burr's hand for a moment, but it doesn't waver. It doesn't look like there's anything on his hand or up his sleeve; John's seen those hidden knives on TV, and he'd rather not be shanked mid-handshake. He decides that it's safe enough to shake Burr's hand.

It's not.

Burr is slightly taller than John, sure, but he was fairly certain that was stronger until Burr grips his hand and drags him across the threshold so hard and so quickly that John's arm gives a sickening  _ pop.  _ A jolt of pain crashes over him, and he grimaces as he peers at Burr, trying to figure out what the  _ fuck  _ is going on.

Burr smiles. His face changes: yellow eyes, protruding veins, and sharp, sharp teeth.  _ Fuck.  _ Vampire.

“I've known Alexander for a long time,” Burr says casually, like he and John have known each other for a long time. He tightens his grip on John's hand; it's a warning that he could crush it at any moment. “When I heard he was here,” Burr passes a judgmental look over John's front porch, which he might take offence to if his heart weren't pounding a mile a minute, and his hand weren't at risk, “I thought there might be a reason beyond the desire for a change of scenery.”

John can hear what he's implying; he just doesn't know what to say to it. So he says nothing.

“Has Alexander told you that you look exactly like his first boyfriend?” Burr asks. “I would call the two of you identical myself.”

John bristles at the suggestion that Alex is only dating him because of some dead guy from the 1780s that kind of looks like him.  _ Don't trust him, _ John tells himself. He keeps his eyes locked on where Burr is still squeezing his hand.  _ Don't trust him. _

“I can tell that you don't believe me; I challenge you to ask Alexander yourself. Unless you're afraid of what he might say.”

That does it. “If you're quite finished harassing me about my boyfriend,” John says venomously, yanking his hand back, and surprisingly, Burr lets go. John stumbles backward into his house. Out of Burr's reach.

Burr raises his hands in a vague gesture of innocence. “I came here to warn you, John.”

John rolls his eyes. He feels safe, absurdly, and he keeps his gaze on the threshold so as not to go over it again. Screw vampires. Can't even fucking come inside on their own. “Look, I don't know what Alex did to piss you off, but I've already got enough warnings about him from people I trust far more than you.”

“Ah, to be young and arrogant,” Burr sighs, sounding rather arrogant himself. “I came to tell you about your historical counterpart, actually. He died in quite a terrible manner.” Burr shakes his head. “Martyrdom never looks good on anyone.”

John refuses to ask what happened.  _ Don't trust him. _

Burr doesn't need the prompting, though. “In modern history texts, Americans like to marvel at how their ancestors managed to defeat the British Empire. I've seen countless reasons as to why the war ended that way, and some of them have merit. But, it's odd that no one considers the witches. Or it would be, if people still believed in witches.

“Witches are easily the most powerful beings on the planet. They were highly active during the Revolution; my wife, for example, used her magic for the war effort. Of course, there were Loyalist witches, there were witches amongst the British army, there were witches in England all using their magic against us. But we had what you would call a secret weapon.”

John is suddenly struck by the bizarre situation he's in. It's almost eleven o’clock on a Saturday night, and he's listening to a vampire of questionable motivation and morality talk about the American Revolution. How did this become his life?  _ Alex. _

“How much do you know about witches?” Burr asks.

“Enough,” says John, too defensively. Burr sees right through him.

“Witches need things to amplify their magic, or to cement it, or to break it. Generally they use objects from Nature, but sometimes they engineer their own sources. And sometimes they accidentally create new sources.” He pauses. “I'm afraid you fall into the latter category.”

John considers slamming the door in his face, but he decides he'd rather not be murdered on his way to school on Monday. (And yeah, okay, he's curious about what Burr's trying to say. It's fine, as long as he doesn't trust him.)

“I believe the witches call you and yours  _ doppelgängers,” _ Burr says in a manner that leads John to believe that Burr knows that's the correct term.

“You are an echo of one of your distance ancestors; one that decided to become immortal. My understanding is that even witches have magical laws that cannot be broken, and that true immortality is one of those laws, but witches are human, too. They find loopholes. You are the loophole, John, and so was this revolutionary that Alexander was so fond of. You live and die, an exact genetic copy of your immortal ancestor, so that they can remain frozen in time.”

John blinks. “That sounds like bullshit.” He can't help it. He's heard a lot of weird shit in the past three weeks, but he has to draw the line somewhere. Doppelgängers? It sounds Burr is trying to start problems between him and Alex because of some centuries-old beef, and maybe make him distrust witches as well.

Burr shrugs. “Ask witches about their greatest source of power. Doppelgängers work like a charm, if you'll forgive the pun, in fueling spells of all types and strengths. The unfortunate part is that they usually die in the process,” he says, although he doesn't look terribly broken up about the deaths of these doppelgängers.

“So you came to tell me that the witches are going to kill me because I’m a battery on steroids?” John clarifies. This is ridiculous.

“I came to tell you that anyone with something to gain will want you, and that anyone with something to lose will need you. If anyone knows you're here, they'll come for you.”

Burr has a different motivation for telling John all of this. He doesn't believe for a moment that Burr's worried about his safety or whatever. But he'll have to talk to Herc and figure out how much of this is true - if any of it - before he can piece together why Burr would randomly appear and lie to him. How did he even know that Alex is in Liberty?

“There is a portrait of Jack Laurens in Alexander's autobiography,” Burr says. “Page 127.”

John watches Burr descend the porch steps and walk off into the night without further commentary.  _ Doppelgängers,  _ he thinks,  _ what the fuck. _

He goes into the kitchen and puts some ice on his hand, which is sore from Burr's abuse. He checks his phone with his left hand and frowns when he realizes Alex still hasn't texted him. Shouldn't he be home by now? John decides to text first because Alex should know that there's another vampire in town.

_ babe dont freak out but this vampire called burr just came by my house?? he had some odd shit to say _

_ I didnt let him in or anything _

_ where r u? _

The word  _ Delivered  _ glares at him from his screen, so he turns his phone off and sticks it back in his pocket. Alex probably got into a debate with Lafayette or Angelica or someone on Twitter; he gets into a zone when he's arguing, and the pinging of his phone can't bring him out if it. John thinks it's cuter when he's actually watching Alex debate; he doesn't appreciate the wait time between texts.

John tosses the half-melted ice cubes into the sink and double-checks that he locked the door before he goes back upstairs. He checks on all of his siblings; the four of them are fast asleep. He hopes none of them get mixed up in all this supernatural shit that he's fallen into. John couldn't live with himself if one of them got hurt because of it. He makes a mental note to sprinkle some vervain into the eggs he's making for breakfast tomorrow.

He goes back to his room and climbs into bed, checks his phone one last time with disappointing results, and then falls asleep himself.

The Killers drag him from sleep what feels like mere seconds (but is more like three hours) later, and John wearily reaches for his phone, swipes to answer the call, and mumbles, “The fuck?”

_ “Is Alexander there?”  _ asks Lafayette without any introductions or politesses, sounding supremely annoyed,  _ “He was supposed to be home before one, but he is not here, and he is not answering my messages.” _

“He left here at like ten,” John says.

Lafayette lets out an annoyed exhale that crackles on the phone's speakers. He mutters something in French under his breath. John wonders what project Alex skipped out on, and why. Doesn't seem like a good idea to ignore Lafayette, but maybe that's just John's outside perspective.

_ “I am sorry for waking you, John. He was supposed to do something for me, but as per usual he could not manage to follow through with his promise.” _

Well, that's a little ominous. John thinks he should probably be a little concerned Alex's apparent lack of reliability. But then, John should he concerned about a number of things that he just isn't.

“Lafayette, do you know someone named Aaron Burr?” John asks before Lafayette hangs up.

_ “Oui, he was a friend of Alexander’s, but they had a falling out, as you say,”  _ Lafayette answers.  _ “Why do you ask?” _

“He came by my house tonight,” John says, and then he launches into a quick explanation of what happened. He feels a little awkward telling this to Lafayette because they aren't that close, but Alex trusts Lafayette with everything, so John doesn't see the problem with trusting him, too.

Lafayette doesn't interrupt him to ask questions, and when John's done recounting the conversation to the best of his ability, all Lafayette says is,  _ “You are right not to trust Burr. I do not know how he found us here; that is most suspicious. Do not leave your house until Alexander comes to see you again.”  _ And then he hangs up before John can ask if doppelgängers are real. 

John sighs.

Alex hasn't replied to his texts yet. Where the hell could he be? John hopes he isn't out binge-drinking people in the next town over or something. He still feels a pang of jealousy at the thought of Alex's teeth sinking into someone else; it's stronger now that Alex has bit him, in fact.

John puts his phone on the nightstand and resolves to call him and chew him out for disappearing as soon as he wakes up. But, for now, he's human, and he needs to fucking sleep. He brushes his fingers over his neck one more time, and part of him wishes that Alex  _ was _ here, that he'd stayed, that they could've laid in bed together all night long.

It's a nice dream.


	12. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three years in Germany, two years of taking German, I still put the umlaut on the wrong letter in doppelgänger. //sigh

When Alex wakes, he feels disgusting. His head is heavy and buzzing, and he's sore - especially beneath his chest. There's something  _ wrong  _ with his stomach, and it takes Alex a minute to remember that he was stabbed. The memory hits him like a flash:  _ Jefferson _ drove a fucking stake right through him. How the hell did Jefferson even find him?

Alex has a multitude of enemies, mostly because he can't keep his mouth shut, but he's pretty good at managing them. Or hiding from them. Or both. But Thomas Jefferson has been like his arch nemesis for almost as long as Alex has been undead - and yeah, Alex feels old  _ and  _ pretentious for calling someone his arch nemesis, but that's the relationship they have. It stopped being purely political years ago.

Alex cracks open one eye to find himself in a room lit only by the shreds of sunlight shining through half-boarded windows. There isn't much around; the room looks dusty and abandoned, what with the vegetation popping up through the gaps in the wooden floor.

As sluggish and foggy as his head is right now, it takes him a second to realize that he's actually standing, with his back partially touching a wall. He glances down and sees that there's still a fucking stake running through him, his blood dry and crusted on the sharp tip. It looks like his natural healing ability has been used against him; his body's tried to heal itself around the stake, but it's just made matters worse. It's going to be twice as painful when he finally tears it out.

Alex tries to reach for the stake, to get it over with before he finds Jefferson and rips him limb from limb, but there's a rustle of metal, and he slowly realizes that he's chained to the wall. Like he's the monster in a sixteenth century horror novel with a modern, live-action movie adaptation. God, could his life get anymore fucking cliché?

At least the chains keep him from face-planting into the floor. He's exhausted from all the failed healing that his body's been putting him through. He could really uses a snack, too. The thought of fresh blood makes his mouth water, his fangs grow. He hasn't eaten since… since John. Alex doesn't know how long it's been since he was with John. He could've been unconscious for days.

Alex isn't worried about John. Jefferson leaves humans alone, and even if he decides to stray from his high-and-mighty path, he's confident that Lafayette will protect him. He's a little concerned that John and Lafayette both might think he left - because, well, he  _ has _ left Lafayette before. Because he used to be an even bigger prick than he is now. Imagine that.

“Alexander,” says a familiar voice suddenly, so suddenly that Alex is  _ almost  _ startled by silence and uncanny timing exhibited by the speaker. He looks over at the doorway.

James Madison is standing there, looking just about as tired and sickly as he always has. He doesn't look a day over thirty-five, and Alex has to wonder what exactly the limits and conditions of his witch-sponsored pseudo-immortality are. One of them is hunting and killing (non-witch) supernatural creatures, certainly, but what are the other stipulations? What keeps him young and beautiful? It always comes with a cost, Alex knows. 

“Jemmy,” Alex teases, his voice embarrassingly thin and weak around the single word.

James sighs at the childish nickname. “Do you know where Washington is?” he asks. Apparently, they're skipping the pleasantries this time.

“Haven't seen him recently,” Alex says truthfully. Washington comes and goes on his own timetable, much to the annoyance of everyone who cares about him in the slightest. Or maybe it's just Alex that's annoyed by it. He has been known to have some daddy issues. But seriously, would it kill Washington to drop a postcard in the mail?

James sighs again. He's good at that. And sneezing. He's also brilliant when it comes to writing for hours on end and structuring new governments, and then running those governments. A man of many talents, that James Madison.

“Thomas is going to torture you,” he says, and at least there's still enough of their friendship remaining that he sounds unhappy about it. Or he could be becoming touchy-feely in his old age. That'd be a bad quality for a hunter to develop.

The thing is, Alex has never actually been  _ caught _ by hunters before. He's seen James and Jefferson a few times since their ‘deaths,’ but this is the first time they've managed to get the jump on him. And compared to them, normal hunters are a piece of cake to evade, even with all of Alex's reckless behavior. Humans are really ignorant about vampires.

Now that he thinks about it, how  _ did _ Jefferson get the jump on him this time? There was - Alex remembers a sharp pain in his head, like a migraine burst forth out of nowhere. How did they do that? Was  _ that  _ witch-sponsored, too?

“I figured,” Alex says, trying to sound nonchalant. Which is difficult when you're chained to a wall and you've a stake impaling you, he finds out.

Alex hasn't been tortured before, not really, but he's always been aware that he could be captured by an enemy at any time. That was true even before he became a vampire. Still, he's not keen to see Jefferson. Especially since he has no leverage as of right now.

“I've been attempting to talk him out of it,” James says.

“How kind of you,” Alex mutters, “isn't that a little counterproductive for you, though?”

James gives him that  _ look _ that people always give Alex. The one that says,  _ do you ever know when to shut the fuck up?  _ Evidently, the answer is  _ no,  _ otherwise he wouldn't know the meaning of the look.

Alex shifts, and it sends an agonizing stab of pain through his body. His nerves feel like they're on fire and - Jefferson's already torturing him. He hisses through his teeth.

“It isn't,” James says eventually, answering Alex's question, “because I'm advocating that he simply put you out of your misery.”

_ There's  _ the vampire hunter Alex knows and loves. He may not have been personally captured by the southern motherfucking democratic-republican duo before now, but he's heard stories. Creatures talk. And Alex's motto has always been  _ keep your friends close, keep your arch nemesis and his boyfriend at a safe distance wherein you can hear all about their actions without dying.  _ It's wordy, but it's been effective. Until now. Which brings him back to  _ how  _ they caught him.

“You looking to kill Washington, too?” Alex asks.

James, thankfully, looks scandalized. At least there's a fucking line. “Of course not. Washington - and the Marquis de Lafayette, who I'm certain is around here also - don't kill or terrorize anyone.  _ You  _ do. You're a monster, Alexander.”

“Washington killed _me,”_ says Alex. He doesn't protest the part about Lafayette, though, even if Laf has done his fair share of killing and terrorizing. If Jefferson (and it's definitely _Jefferson_ with the problem) can't reconcile that his dear friend is a monster, then Alex isn't going to try to convince him otherwise. At least that means Lafayette will be left alone.

“You volunteered,” James reminds him. He doesn't even know the whole story; Alex  _ begged  _ Washington to turn him. It was extremely difficult. Alex was even more prideful in his youth than he is now, and that's saying something.

“It's difficult  _ not  _ to kill people,” Alex says, “just like it's difficult for humans not to kill animals. It's food.” It's not exactly the same thing, though, because unlike vampires, humans  _ can _ live without prey.

“I'm a vegetarian,” James tells him.  _ Of course  _ he is. Isn't that the funniest shit?

“That's great,” deadpans Alex, “but me and the many cats you and Jefferson have adopted would die on that type of diet.” He's sure they have cats because he can smell them; their scents cling to James and his clothes. He bets that they bring the cats with them whenever they go out hunting - although, there is a slim possibility that their base is nearby.

James just raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying you're a cat?”

Alex huffs, annoyed. “James, you're one of the smartest people I know-” he begins, and it's true, however he's interrupted before he can reach the  _ but  _ part of his statement.

“Alexander,” says a new voice, and James casually steps out of the way. Aaron Burr doesn't have the same cool tone to his words as James did. The dangerous edge of their history is evident in Alex's name alone.

“Mr. Burr, sir,” Alex says automatically, and he can hear how Burr grinds his teeth together from across the room. The dull  _ scrape  _ is unpleasant, to say the least. “You know he's a vampire, too, right, James?”

James shifts, as if this fact makes him uncomfortable. Is Alex really so bad that vampires and hunters need to set aside their differences to track him down? He knows he's an arrogant bastard, but even he's never thought of himself as any group's superordinate goal.

Burr isn't a good or admirable vampire like Washington and Lafayette supposedly are. He's actually bat-shit fucking crazy, if Alex remembers correctly. Which explains how he's getting along with Jefferson. If he weren't literally supporting Alex's immediate death, Alex would feel bad for James. Stuck with the two of them for a long period of time… Alex had a nightmare like that once, even though he didn't know either of them before he was turned, when he had nightmares.

“I met your boyfriend,” Burr says, far too comfortably.

“He's cute, right?” says Alex to counteract the cold  _ fear  _ that grips him at Burr's words. If he visited John at home, he should be fine… he knows not to invite strange visitors in. But what if Burr decided to visit him at school? Or chooses to so later? Alex has no doubt that Burr would hurt John just to see Alex suffer. He wonders if James, the morally upstanding one of the group, would allow it.

“He looks like your first boyfriend.” Burr seems to be making some point with that comment, but Alex doesn't understand the subtext. He knows John looks like Jack, but he's not sure what  _ that  _ has to do with anything. Unless Burr's implying that they're only together because of the resemblance. In which case, he'd be mostly correct. But that isn't going to rile Alex up or anything. He couldn't care less what Aaron Burr thinks of his relationships.

Apparently, that comment means  _ something  _ to James, though, because his eyes widen, and he turns to stare at Burr. “The doppelgänger is  _ here?” _

“The fuck?” Alex interjects. He knows what a doppelgänger is in German folklore, but what does that have to do with John? He tastes like a normal human. Maybe he's like Jack's evil twin? Except that makes little sense, regardless of how alike they look. Neither of them are evil.

Annoyingly, but unsurprisingly, James and Burr ignore him. Burr nods once to confirm James’ doppelgänger comment.

“I wouldn't get your hopes up about using him, however,” Burr adds, “apparently, he and your witch are close friends.”

James looks scandalized, although Alex isn't sure if it's the thought using John (how? for what??), or if it has something to with this witch, who is obviously Hercules Mulligan. That actually makes sense. Herc probably called in these hunters - and maybe he was responsible for that fierce headache that split Alex's skull seconds before Jefferson stabbed him. Stupid fucking witches and their meddling.  

“If the doppelgänger hasn't done anything wrong, then we won't harm him,” James says firmly. Well. At least John has that going for him. Though Alex isn't sure when the hell James made himself judge, jury, and executioner. He's certain that they've discussed why leaving all that to one person is a terrible idea.

Burr frowns. “But think of all the good-”

“No,” James interjects. Alex can almost see the heat of Burr's annoyance rising off him in waves. It's funny. He'd laugh, but that would disturb the stake. As it is, he's trying not to move around so much. The chains are helping with that, although his arms are definitely going to be sore if he gets out of them. “He's barely more than a child.”

“He is inhuman.”

“So are  _ you,”  _ James says warningly. When did James grow balls? Alex is impressed. But wait, wait, back the truck up - John's not human? Does that mean  _ Jack  _ wasn't human? But they look and smell and act like humans. Vampires, werewolves, other humanoids, none of them are so good at blending in that they reach that level of mimicry. John  _ tastes  _ human, for fuck’s sake.

Maybe they're yanking his chain, but James’ surprise at Burr's news seemed genuine. So unless he's been taking acting lessons along with his ‘grow a pair’ classes, Alex doesn't think that's the case. He'll have to do more research, if he survives long enough to have access to books and computers again. Lafayette has a private library on his estate in France, and some of his employees are working on digitizing all of them. He often uses that as starting place for research, especially if it's a topic that interests Laf. And global lore interests Laf.

“What’s this about doppelgängers and nonhumans?” Alex asks, as sweetly as possible. Maybe they'll tell him something useful while Burr rubs in the fact that he knows something Alex doesn't.

“I think John summarized them quite nicely when he described doppelgängers as “batteries on steroids” for witches,” Burr says, and he gives no further explanation. He doesn't tease, either, although a self-satisfied smirk curls across his lips.

James glares at Burr, his own lips pressed into a frustrated line. Burr ignores him. After a moment, James looks at Alex and vows, very pointedly: “I will not let anything happen to the doppelgänger - his name is John, yes?”

“Lafayette won't let anything happen to him, either,” Alex says, making his own damn point. Burr seems unimpressed with the combined wrath of James and Lafayette. Let him be unimpressed. Alex has no doubt that Laf would kill Burr without a second thought if he so much as glanced in the wrong direction. He's always said that Burr is  _ the worst. _

“If you're both quite finished trying to intimidate me,” Burr says mildly, “I believe it’s about time someone wake Jefferson. It  _ is _ almost noon.”

James grumbles under his breath in a language Alex doesn't recognize. Burr ignores that, too. Alex sees this alliance quickly and violently dissolving as soon as he's dead; maybe he'll do them a favor and live.

“Why? Can't handle me yourself? Need Tommy to do your dirty work?” Alex taunts. If this  _ is  _ his last ride, he's not about to miss his final opportunity to piss of Burr. He's been doing it since he was twenty-one - and after two hundred thirty years, he still enjoys it. Yeah, he's an asshole. He knows. Burr's an asshole, too, though.

Also, Alex is confident that Burr can't hurt him as much as Jefferson can, and he'd like to delay that particular encounter as long as possible.

Burr doesn't rise to the bait, unfortunately. Alex supposes that makes sense. The last time he let Alex get to him, he became a disgrace in the eyes of American history. Though that isn't really a problem now that they're both nobodies.

Burr leaves the tiny, shack-like room (which may actually be a shake… cut him some slack, he's got a stake through his stomach), presumably to make good on his promise to wake up Jefferson.

“I'm going to convince him to kill you quickly,” James promises, which is surprisingly comforting and yet also not very comforting at all. Alex hasn't felt this kind of emotional conflict in years. That's fantastic.

“Why don't  _ you  _ just kill me?” Alex asks, but he already knows the answer.

“I can't,” says James with a slight cringe.

“If you  _ can't,  _ don't you think it might be the wrong thing to do?”

James doesn't have a response for that. Or maybe his silence  _ is  _ his response. The semantics hardly matter if he's about to die, right?

Alex thought he'd be more upset about dying, but he's not. He's a little pissed that he barely had any time with John, and he wishes he could talk to Laf one more time. And he's embarrassed that  _ Jefferson,  _ of all people, is going to do him in. Honestly, there's a few things he would've done differently if he could do it all over. But he's been alive for a long time. It'll be nice to rest, if he can. If that's how it works.

He's deliberately ignoring all that pain he's probably going to go through  _ before  _ he dies. He's not sure how to put a positive spin on that.

Maybe he's not too broken up about it because he's still holding out hope that Laf and Angelica will show up and rescue him dramatically. That'd be a fun story to tell fifty years from now. But Alex doesn't know how long he's been gone. Surely Laf has notice by now? He was supposed to pick up some blood bags on his way back from John's. Angelica's been going through them like crazy. If she's hungry, and he's annoyed, they've probably noticed.

But then, if it's only been a few hours, they might think he spent the night John’s. Hopefully, they called him.

Hopefully, they'll come for him.


	13. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this yesterday, but then shit happened. 
> 
> But hey, Lafayette & John bonding. 
> 
> (Also, I haven't forgotten about the Washington side-story. I'm in the process of writing it.)

When John wakes up on Sunday morning, Alex hasn't texted him back yet. That wouldn't be odd it Alex were a normal person; however, he doesn't sleep. Also, he's a lowkey tech junkie. John's only known him for a few weeks, and he’s already certain that Alex would stab someone if they take away his phone or his laptop. John's worry only increases when he sees that there callout tweets @ Alex that have yet to be annihilated. Some of them were posted  _ last night. _

John calls Alex, and he tries not to panic when the phone rings out. His finger hovers over Lafayette's number, which is near the top of his call log courtesy of their late night chat yesterday. He hesitates, though, because he doesn't want to sound like he can't go a night without talking to Alex. That's some overly-attached girlfriend bullshit right there. Besides, if Lafayette still couldn't find Alex, he'd call back. Right? Maybe Alex is just busy doing whatever thing he was supposed to do last night.

John goes downstairs. There's still a group of unsettled butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, but he tries to ignore it and makes himself some toast. As he munches on the the crispy, buttery bread, he thinks about that strange conversation he had with that vampire -  _ Aaron Burr.  _ He doesn't think he dreamed that. The angry purple bruise on his wrist says that he didn't dream that.

But then, what the fuck was he going on about?  _ Doppelgängers? _ John doesn't believe there's anything particularly supernatural about him, aside from his choice in company. Just because his best friend is a witch and his boyfriend is a vampire doesn't mean that John's anything more or less than human. And John doesn't know if he can trust this random vampire’s information anyway. Lafayette said that he shouldn't.

John decides to ask Herc about it next time they talk. And he can look up Alex's biography, which is probably a widely inaccurate but interesting read. At the very least, it'll give John material to tease Alex with.

While John's eating and thinking, Polly wanders into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Her presence reminds John that he should do his best to keep his siblings inside today, although it'll be hard to get Marth and Henry to abandon any plans they may have. Of course, if their father's home, John can just mention Angelica again. That'll get him to put them all on lockdown. Including him. Oh well. Lafayette told him to not leave either.

Vampires. They're killing him.

“Can I have cereal?” asks Polly, completely ignorant to the struggles of the supernatural world. Such innocence. She's not tall enough to reach the top of the pantry, so John grabs the Cinnamon Toast Crunch for her and pours her a bowl. She asks for it be drenched in  _ chocolate _ milk, and John obliges her weird taste.

By the time John's done helping Polly, he can't stop himself anymore. He leaves the kitchen and goes back upstairs to call Lafayette. Who cares if he thinks John's too attached?

_ “John,”  _ Lafayette answers by way of greeting. That obvious use of caller ID reminds John to put Lafayette in as an actual contact when they're done talking.

“Uh, hi, Lafayette,” John says, and he immediately wants to slap himself. So eloquent - not.

_ “I assume you are calling about Alexander's whereabouts,”  _ he says, and when John confirms that, he continues,  _ “Unfortunately, I still do not know where he is.” _

“Should we worry?” John asks. If Lafayette isn't concerned, why should John be?

_ “It sounds as if you are already worrying,”  _ Lafayette says lightly, an amused edge coloring his words.  _ “I will go and look for him in about half an hour. Would you like to come with me?” _

“Yeah, yeah, that'd be great,” John says, cringing at how awkward he is on the phone the whole time.

_ “I will pick you up,”  _ Lafayette says, and then he hangs up.

John scrambles to get dressed quickly. As he digs through his closet, he decides that he should really do some laundry when he gets home. Once he pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and grabs a jacket, he brushes his teeth and fights with his hair. He's done getting ready in about ten minutes, which gives him plenty of time to figure out how to get out of the house while making sure all of his siblings stay in.

For the first time in who knows how many years, John is pleased to run into his dad on his way down the stairs. “Where do you think you're going?” says Dad, looking thoroughly suspicious of the fact that John is fully dressed before noon on a Sunday.

“Alex… has some hair appointment, and she wants me to come with her. She's worried about going out on her own, since Angelica Schuyler's still missing and all.” John is careful to use feminine pronouns. He's pretty proud of his excuse, especially having come up with it on the spot. It hits the highlights, and it's the type of stuff his dad likes to hear. Plus, there's the subtle reminder that it's dangerous outside.

“Hmm,” says Dad, “when am I going to meet this girl of yours?”

“Um.” Fuck. “I'll ask her if she wants to come over around my birthday? If that's alright?” That gives him some time to figure things out - his birthday's in like two and a half weeks.

His dad nods. “Okay, sounds good. You go and keep an eye on your girl.”

Well. That was easier than John anticipated. “Thanks, Dad,” he says, and he heads for the door before his dad can change his mind.

Of course, Lafayette isn't there yet. He sits on the front step, close enough to the door that he could probably escape any hungry vampires that may pass by. Except vampires are fast as hell, so maybe not. He gets into a debate with himself over which would be worse, dealing with his father's questions if he goes back in, or being mauled to death by an angry vampire on the porch.

John stays on the steps.

Lafayette shows up a few minutes early, and John walks over to his car, which is a fancy, silver convertible-type thing that John couldn't put a name to if he tried. He slides into the passenger seat, and Lafayette gives him a very pointed  _ look _ over the top of his sunglasses. John busies himself with his seatbelt and pretends not to notice. 

“Perhaps I was not clear about how dangerous Aaron Burr can be?” Lafayette says in a tone that tells John that he knows he was perfectly clear when they were talking last night.

“You were.”

“So tell me, John,” Lafayette says as he backs his car out of the Laurens’ driveway, “do you have a death wish, or are you just the type that considers dying as a potential but unlikely side effect of doing whatever the hell you want?”

John cringes and looks out the window so that he doesn't have to see the annoyance and disappointment etched onto Lafayette's face. He feels bad, because Lafayette is clearly worried about his safety, probably on Alex's behalf. But he's a little annoyed himself; he and Lafayette aren't friends, and he doesn't think it's really Lafayette's place guilt-trip him.

A heavy silence hangs between them for a few moments. When Lafayette realizes that John has no intention of responding, he sighs and says, “I called a friend of mine last night. To inquire about these… doppelgängers that Burr spoke of.”

“And?” John doesn't know how to feel about this conversation; there's a jumble of discomfort flopping around in his stomach, but he's so curious he thinks he might burst.

“It seems that they are real - and more troubling, it seems likely that you are one of them. Burr was not lying when he mentioned that Alexander and I had a friend that bore an uncanny resemblance to you.”

John notices that while Burr said  _ boyfriend,  _ Lafayette simply refers to this mysterious ancestor of John's as a  _ friend.  _ Maybe Burr was trying to rile him up… or maybe Lafayette doesn't know that they were more than friends? But then, that isn't the most important thing Lafayette just said, he realizes after a second. He said that John  _ is _ a doppelgänger. A supernatural  _ copy _ of  _ someone else.  _ The notion was laughable coming from some random vampire, but Lafayette is Alex's brother in every sense except biology. He has no reason to lie. Which means John  _ is  _ really just a copy. An echo, Burr said. What else did Burr say that's actually true?

God, that just fucked his sense of self.

Lafayette keeps talking, like John isn't having an identity crisis all of a sudden, “Apparently, there are a few families - two or three, probably, but maybe as many as five; my friend, she is not certain on the exact amount - that have doppelgängers scattered throughout their lines. Yours is the most famous, and collectively she referred to you and your similar ancestors as the Laurens doppelgängers. The Bartow family - that is, the family of Burr's late wife - also contains doppelgängers, which explains how he knows. There are unconfirmed rumors about other families.”

John isn't sure he actually wants to know the answer to the question burning in his mind. This topic is making him feel a little sick, truth to be told. But he asks anyway, “What are the Laurens doppelgängers famous for?”

“Dying,” Lafayette says, and John can't help but wince. “Burr was also correct about the most common use of doppelgängers; they are witches’ tools. Witches have found Laurens doppelgängers more easily than others, probably because once one is found, it is safe to assume another will appear later in the family line. Spells tied with doppelgänger blood are-”

“-powerful, I heard,” John finishes.

“Unbreakable, until another doppelgänger is found and sacrificed,” Lafayette amends. “Burr's motives may not be clear, but he is not wrong about you being at risk.”

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ “Is that what happened to your friend? Was he used in some spell?”

“I had not considered the possibility before this morning,” Lafayette admits, and then he frowns. “I am starting to think Alexander and I were deliberately kept ignorant of doppelgängers so that we would not ponder that question.”

Lafayette pulls into an empty parking lot outside a decrepit building that was maybe movie theater once, and it occurs to John that he has no idea where they are, or how long they've been driving. He's been too intent on listening to what Lafayette has to say, but it doesn't matter. They can't be too far from Liberty. Part of him is curious as to why they're looking here first, but he has a more pressing question to ask first.

“Who would want to keep you and Alex in the dark about what happened to your friend?” It's easier to say, to think,  _ your friend _ and not  _ my ancestor.  _ In fact, John immediately banishes the latter phrase from his mind.

“General Washington,” Lafayette says.

_ “ General Washington?”  _ John repeats, “As in, the first president of the United States?” Maybe there's some other, lesser known General Washington?

“Do you know of many other General Washingtons?”

“No, but- why would he-?”

“Because he is like a father to us, and he knows we would be devastated if we knew that he allowed Jack to become a martyr in the manner that I am now thinking he might have,” Lafayette says. John's eyes widen as he realizes what Lafayette is suggesting.

“That's- kind of a big accusation.” He finds the will to comment as Lafayette parks.

“One I will not suggest to the General's face before thorough discussion with Alexander, certainly,” Lafayette says in agreement.

“Wait - is George Washington a  _ vampire?”  _ John asks.

Lafayette glances over at him before unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the car. John scrambles to do the same so that he can catch Lafayette's response. “Yes. He is our sire. Did Alexander not tell you?”

“Alex didn't…” tell John much of anything. He guessed the time period that they were born based on Alex's approximate age, and Burr's comments about the American Revolution last night confirmed that. John thinks Alex mentioned his sire in passing, but not by name. He would've remembered that  _ George Washington _ turned his boyfriend into a vampire.

Lafayette looks at him over the roof of the car, but it's hard to read his expression because of the sunglasses he's wearing and the way his mouth is pressed into an impassive line. “I believe he feels slighted. The General spends very little time with us. He disappears for decades at a time, only to reappear at random. He is our father figure, you see, and it is difficult for us when he is absent. Emotionally.”

“George Washington is a deadbeat dad?”

“I would not go so far as to call him that,” Lafayette says, his words sharp with warning.

“Right. Sorry,” says John, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “So why are we at this abandoned movie theater or whatever this was?”

“I asked Angelica where she thought a vampire would hide if he came to town, but did not wish to mingle with the masses. She gave me a list of places. This is the first.”

John raises an eyebrow. “So you think Aaron Burr did something to Alex?”

“I do not know. He could be destroying a small town in Tennessee right now, to be perfectly frank,” Lafayette says, and John wonders if Alex actually has disappeared before only to turn up destroying a small town in Tennessee. He should probably be concerned by that. He should definitely be concerned by that. “But it seems suspicious to me that he would disappear the same night Burr appears on your doorstep.”

Lafayette walks around the car and pushes open the trunk. He pulls out a large, sharpened wooden stake and tosses it to John, who barely catches it without stabbing himself. He takes out another for himself, and then he pulls out a small plastic bag full of vervain, which he also tosses to John. “Eat some of that. You will be useless if he compels you.”

“What makes you think I'm not already on vervain?” he says, but even as he's speaking, he tucks the stake under his right arm and opens the bag. He takes out an entire stalk and shoves it in his mouth. It tastes terrible, but he chews and swallows it anyway. It leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

“Are you trying to tell me that you did not let Alexander bite you yesterday?” Lafayette says, looking unimpressed.

“I- how did-?” John touches the spot on his neck where Alex bit him. Is there a scar? He didn't think vampire blood left scars.

“Either he bit you, or the two of you had sex yesterday. You smell like him,” Lafayette says, answering the question John hasn't asked yet.

“Oh.” John hadn't considered that. But - vampires have a better sense of smell than people, so it makes sense. Right? He wishes he'd paid a little more attention in Biology, to be honest.

Lafayette shuts the trunk with a  _ slam.  _ “You will probably smell like him until his blood leaves your system, although it will get fainter.”

“Burr probably, uh, smelled him when we were talking, huh?”

“I would imagine so, but it is also one of those things that vampires who spend time with other vampires stop noticing after a while. I did not take note of it until you brought my attention to it.” Lafayette gives a small shrug, as if it isn't a big deal. Maybe it isn't. “Perhaps the evolutionary purpose was to stake a claim on particular meals, but I could not say so with any measure of certainty.”

Lafayette leaves the car behind and starts walking toward the theater. John shoves the bag of vervain into his pocket and follows after him, holding his stake out in case he has to use it. Although, he's not sure he moves fast enough to actually stake a vampire. He doesn't have to put his speed to the test at the theater, though. Alex isn't there, and neither is Burr.

Alex isn't at the next place on Angelica's list, either, which is an abandoned church that John used to play around with his sister when they were kids. They go a little further out of town and check out an old barn, but there's nothing there. There are six places total that Angelica recommended, and John adds two more to the list based on his knowledge of the area, but Alex isn't at any of them, and every time they show up and no one is there, John grows more and more worried about his boyfriend. Lafayette doesn't look overly concerned himself, but John doesn't know him well enough to know if he's just good at remaining calm.

When the sun starts to set, Lafayette suggests that John go home. Apparently, he and Angelica are continuing the search after dark. John wants to come, but Lafayette insists that he go home and sleep.

“I do not want to explain to Alexander why his boyfriend dropped dead in his absence,” Lafayette claims, and even though John knows he's being over-dramatic, he relents. It's difficult to sleep Sunday night, though.

On Monday, after school (and yes, Lafayette insists that they both go to school), they drive further, and ask the people of neighboring towns if they've seen anything odd recently. They do the same on Tuesday afternoon, and on Wednesday, and by Thursday, John is so worried about Alex that he's having trouble eating and sleeping. Lafayette is not the best at dealing with his nerves; he makes John eat, which only causes John to throw up immediately afterwards, and they  _ still haven't found Alex. _

John's friends notice Alex's absence, and they notice that John isn't handling it particularly well. Mattie and Maria are supportive, and while Herc doesn't like vampires, he seems worried about John, too. Marth knows Alex is missing, too - hell, the whole school does by Wednesday - and she offers to help look for him, but John declines. The last thing he wants it for Marth - or any of his friends and family - to get attacked by vampires.

By Friday, Lafayette decides that they need to start looking out of state. John doesn’t bother telling his dad that he’s going; he can handle any punishment so long as he knows Alex is alright. Angelica insists on coming with them, which ends in her hiding under a blanket in the back of Lafayette's car during the day. They head north toward Maryland first.

They find Alex, purely through a stroke of luck, late on Friday night, just before sunset. 


	14. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head the violence warning for this chapter! It starts right off the bat.. 
> 
> Also! The doppelgängers are only discussed briefly in this chapter, but if you're curious about them, I answered some questions related to them in the comments section of the last chapter. Feel free to ask more question!

_ Hot. _

The heat is unbearable. Alex has been baking for  _ so long, if he could just, ice, cool, dark, anything.  _ His skin is red and blistered, flaying in the hot sun, and then it starts to  _ move, bubble, melt,  _ like he's a misplaced wax figure facing his doom. He sinks his fingers into the ground and tries to dig, to hide any part of him beneath the dirt. Nothing but torn nails come from his desperate efforts.

He's going to literally burst into flames any moment now. And then it won't be long until he burns to death. Alex never thought he'd be  _ thankful  _ at the idea of  _ burning alive,  _ but now he's starting to see the appeal of being permanently dead. It hurts, but it goes beyond words, beyond pain itself.

Steam rises off the back of his hands, and he can hear a low  _ sizzle  _ crackling from various overcooked patches of skin.

Just before Alex's body can be engulfed in flames, darkness envelopes him. Alex gasps and collapses against the wall. That glass window is doing him no fucking favors. 

“It's funny, really, the difference a little ring can make,” says Jefferson from somewhere else in the darkness. Alex doesn't bother to look around for him, but he can guess that Jefferson is holding his daylight ring, probably twirling it villainously over his fingers. It's pretty fucking stupid, but actually Alex is glad that Jefferson's  _ that  _ kind of asshole, because that means if he survives this, he can probably get that ring back. He doesn't think any witches would be willing to make him a new one, and anyway, he had the damn thing custom-made.

“The witch who made this for you,” Jefferson continues, “how'd you talk her into it?”

Alex doesn't answer him. His skin is trying to heal itself, he can feel it knitting together slowly, but he hasn't eaten in days. He's so  _ thirsty,  _ his mouth and throat feel like they've been scrubbed with sandpaper. He's never felt so weak before, and he hates it. Hates Jefferson.

“Hamilton,” Jefferson says, and when Alex continues to ignore him, he fucking  _ kicks -  _ yeah, that's a definitely a steel-toed boot in his ribcage - and Alex screams at the abuse on his sun-sore skin.  _ Hates.  _ He hates Jefferson.

“The witch?” Jefferson prompts.

“I fucked her.” Alex tries for casual, but it comes out a groan. That isn't even what happened; the General buys all of Alex and Lafayette’s daylight jewelry for them. He's the one with real connections to powerful witches. But Alex lies because Jefferson doesn't deserve the truth, even one as trivial as that.

Jefferson laughs. “Should've known. Witches are a bunch of whores - your people, right, Hamilton?”

Alex doesn't respond. Braces himself for another kick.

It's been days. Alex isn't sure how many days because he was unconscious when he arrived at this hellhole shack, but it's been more than a couple, about three or four? Five? Ah, fuck, a whole week could've passed, and Alex wouldn't know the difference. Time moves strangely when all there is to focus on is pain. Besides starving him and forcing him into the sunlight, Jefferson’s left the goddamn stake in his chest, so that wound's ghastly. He also made Alex drink an awful combination of vervain and pig blood, which burned his throat so bad that it swelled. And tomorrow, apparently, he's going to pry out Alex's fangs - if Alex remembers correctly. He'll probably put them on a necklace or something gaudy like that.

Alex's tongue is dry, too dry, but he runs it over his fangs away. They've been out for awhile now; he's sure his eyes are yellow and his veins are dark. It's hard to look human when he's in so much pain. Being on the defensive (if he can even call his feeble position  _ defensive)  _ always makes his vampire side come out.

“Your mother was a whore, wasn't she? I guess she was a whore by the time's standards, which would be… an adulteress now? Guess it doesn't matter. She spread her legs from someone she wasn't supposed to, and now the world's bearing the weight of her punishment - that’s you, Hamilton.”

Jefferson likes to hear himself talk. Fucking prick.

“You know, if-” Alex never does find out what he knows about Jefferson's  _ if,  _ because there's suddenly shouting coming from outside. Before Jefferson can move to see what the hell is going, the screaming gets closer and closer and closer - there's a  _ thwack,  _ a  _ crack,  _ and a  _ croke,  _ and the shack’s door breaks inwards. The screaming stops. It's dusk outside, dark enough now that Alex probably wouldn't burn, but he shrinks away from the doorway all the same.

Alex blinks a few times, and then he realizes that  _ James  _ is lying in the wreckage of the door. Jefferson rushes over to him to see if he's alright. Alex can hear a low groan coming out of him, so he's alive. For now. Alex isn't sure if being thrown into a door is deadly. It probably depends on the speed.

Jefferson looks up from James’ injured form, and now that he's in the low light, Alex can see the way his face twists in fury. He calls  _ Alex  _ inhuman, but he should really take a look in the damn mirror.

_ “Lafayette!”  _ Jefferson roars.

Lafayette? Lafayette! Alex smiles, then he winces because his face hasn't healed yet. But that doesn't matter because Lafayette is here, and he's going to save him and take him home and give him lots of blood to drink. Alex will spend two days longer than necessary recuperating, and everything will go back to normal. Hopefully, ‘normal’ will come to include Jefferson's head on a pike outside his house, but at this point, that would just be a bonus.

“It was not me, Thomas,” says Lafayette calmly. Alex can hear him getting closer by the crunch of the grass beneath his feet and the volume of his voice. But there's someone with him - or two someones. Alex can't make out how many individuals there. He's having a little trouble thinking properly at all right now.

“It was me,” says another voice Alex recognizes, though he has to admit, he's a little surprised that Angelica  _ threw  _ James into the shack's door. Guess she learned something from that time Lafayette did it to her.

Jefferson stands up, and he probably doesn't see James reach for him as he marches out the door to face two fucking vampires, but Alex notices. Shame that their  _ duties  _ come before their relationship.

Alex can't tell exactly what's going on outside. He can hear Jefferson quickly dissolve into shouting at Lafayette in French, which Lafayette may be responding to, but Alex can't hear that part over Jefferson. He also doesn't know how close Jefferson decided to get to Lafayette and Angelica, again because of the shouting. Jefferson needs to shut the fuck up. Maybe Lafayette will rip out his tongue. (It's pretty unlikely, though. If Lafayette were the type to rip out tongues for excessive talking and yelling, Alex would've lost his years ago.)

“Alex?” whispers a voice that's suddenly very close. Alex curses. No one's snuck up on him like that since, well, since Jefferson captured him, but before  _ that,  _ no one had snuck up on him in decades. He's really off his fucking game.

It's not James, like Alex initially thought, but John. He peeks inside the shack, steps over James, and creeps over to Alex. If Alex walks out of here, he's going to murder Lafayette for bringing John into this. He's only human. He could die so fucking  _ easily, _ and the thought makes Alex want to vomit. 

“Alex - holy shit, you…” John has no words. That's just fucking fantastic. He's probably traumatized.  _ Alex  _ would be traumatized if he saw someone he cared about in his current state, and he's seen a lot of horrible situations in his life. Can't get used to some things. Torture? That's one of them.

“I know,” Alex says, and he tries to sound soothing, but his voice cracks. Typical. “I think James has a copy of the key. Maybe it's on him?”

John stares at him, looking somewhere between horrified and confused. Alex rattles his chains, and then he feels a little bad when John jumps. “The key, John,” he repeats. There will be plenty of time to feel bad  _ later. _

“Right, um,” John glances over at James’ prone form, “is he James?”

“Yes.”

John scurries over to James and awkwardly gropes at the pockets of his jacket. “Uh, sorry, um, are you alright, man? Angie didn't break your spine or anything, did she?”

_ Angie?  _ When did  _ that  _ happen? How long has Alex been out of commission that John and Angelica are buddy-buddy?

“‘M fine,” James responds after a long moment of silence. He doesn't sound fine, though. Alex doesn't know how he'd feel if James died - he has mixed feelings about James in general right now.

“Key’s… in my… pants.” Well, that might change Alex's feelings a little. James taps his right pants pocket with his index finger, and John fishes out the key, which is a giant thing that looks about as ridiculous and ancient as the chains themselves.

John comes back over to Alex and starts working the key into the cuff on Alex's left hand. He steps close, too close, and Alex can hear his heartbeat. That is a startling reminder of how fucking  _ hungry  _ he is, and he realizes that if John frees him, he might very well  _ eat _ John and James.  _ Fuck.  _ He struggles for a few seconds before he can get the words out because his instincts are screaming that he should  _ just eat them. _

“John -, John, stop,” Alex says.

John, thankfully, stops as directed. “What?”

“I’m,” Alex swallows, “I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since… since Jefferson grabbed me.”

John doesn't look like he understands the problem, which is an issue for so many reasons that Alex doesn't have time to address right now. He opens his mouth to tell John to send in one of the vampires, preferably Lafayette, but John speaks first: “You can have a drink of me.”

A  _ big  _ issue. Huge. Gigantic. One that needs to be dealt with as soon as possible. Alex makes a frustrated little noise, though he'll never admit it aloud, and says, “I would kill you if I bit you right now. Go get Lafayette.”

John hesitates, which is not good, but at least in the end he decides to do the thing that'll probably keep him alive. He steps over James again and disappears after he crosses through the doorway.

Alex tries to catch up on what's happening outside. It sounds like Jefferson is still shouting in French, but now Alex can actually hear Lafayette responding. Lafayette is slowly getting louder and louder, and it's a little funny, in a dark sort of way, for Alex to imagine the two of them screaming at each other. Lafayette has always defended Jefferson, despite his questionable choices, because they were friends back when Jefferson was simply just Alex's opponent.

And then, abruptly, the shouting stops. Alex can hear  _ John _ talking, but he can't make out the words. But it's pretty clear when Jefferson says, just above a normal speaking voice:  _ “Doppelgänger.” _

“Yeah, that's me,” John says, sounding slightly perturbed. Why does everyone keep calling him a doppelgänger? Alex has the distinct feeling that everyone else, John included, knows something that he doesn't. He hates that feeling.

“Lafayette, what are you doing, with a  _ doppelgänger?” _

Lafayette doesn't answer for a few seconds, and Alex doesn't understand why until he says, “I propose a trade. The doppelgänger for Alexander.”

“Lafayette!” shouts Angelica, just as John exclaims, “The fuck?”

Lafayette has to be bluffing. He has to be. There's no way he's actually considering handing John over to that maniac - and why would Jefferson even want John, anyway? The feeling of being out of the loop only grows.

“I'll take that deal,” cuts in someone new.  _ Burr. He  _ knows, too? Goddammit.

“Burr, you can't -” begins Jefferson, but Burr interrupts him with a sharp, “Shut up, Jefferson,” that would make Alex snap… if he were the type of person to snap at good burns, that is.

“Good. Go get Alexander,” says Lafayette.

Burr laughs, humorlessly and drily as usual. “No, I think you'd better give me the boy first.”

“Okay, two things,” John interrupts, and Alex flinches at the sound of his voice. If he could gain some insight into the fact that he is undoubtedly the most vulnerable creature here, that would do wonders for his and Alex's health.

“One, I may not be a million years old,”  _ ouch,  _ “but I'm not a child.” That's probably the most teenage thing Alex has heard John say. “Two, if you want me, why didn't you take me the other night?”

Alex isn't going to dwell on the implications of that comment. Nope. Now is  _ not  _ the time.

“Change of plans,” Burr says airly. Alex isn't surprised by his vagueness.

“Well, that's fucking fantastic, but-  _ Herc?” _ Oh, great, another person for the stand off. Wonderful. If any of them walk out of here alive, it'll be an actual fucking miracle. Alex doesn't even know what side Herc Mulligan will stand with - if he's right, Herc helped Jefferson get Alex where he is right now.

“John,” says Herc, and he at least has the decency to sound distraught, “I'm sorry.”

“You’re - have you seen Alex?” John says, and there's no doubt that he's figured out just  _ why _ Herc is here. Alex doesn't feel as good about being right as he normally does. “ _ You  _ were the one worried about monsters, but did you ever stop to think that there were worse people than Alex out there?”

“John-”

“I'm not even human, did you know that, Herc?” Wait, John’s  _ not  _ human? So that doppelgänger bullshit - that’s another species? What the actual fuck? “You gonna chain  _ me  _ to a wall and torture me, too?”

“I, John, I would never-”

_ “No.  _ You knew that I  _ love _ him, and you don't have to like that, or like what Alex is, but you  _ knew  _ how I feel _ ,  _ and you still were involved in all of this.” Alex probably shouldn't be feeling all fuzzy at John's confession, given the context, but he does.

An ominous silence settles outside in the wake of John's words. It's heavy and awkward and tense. Alex is surprised at the force of it;  _ he  _ doesn't even want to break it, and he loves smashing the quiet.

“Well,” Burr says eventually, “as… emotional as that was, I'd like to get on with our deal.”

“No deal,” Herc says, voice quivering, and then there's more shouting and screaming, but it sounds like it's coming mostly from Burr and Jefferson. Alex hopes it's the head thing, what he felt before Jefferson stabbed him. Serves them right.

Lafayette doesn't waste any time; he jumps over James - who still hasn't gotten up - Alex wonders how much of that is actual injury and how much is just wanting to stay out of the conflict - and rushes over to Alex, scrambling to unlock the cuffs as quickly as possible. He yanks the stake out of Alex before he has the chance to worry about the pain, and then it's out and over, and Alex feels slightly weaker, but better over all. Alex barely has time to register how glad he is to see Lafayette, and how glad he is to be free and stake-less, before he's being dragged from the shack. His skin is still sensitive, and he hisses at the rough handling, but at least it's dark.

“My ring,” he protests as Lafayette pushes him toward Angelica, who grabs him with even less care and starts pulling him in what he assumes is the direction of a car.

“I will get it,” Lafayette promises, “and I will bring John. Go, eat, heal.” It's obviously more an order than it sounds, and Angelica picks up on that, too, because she's pulling him away again. Alex catches a glance of John and Herc by a cluster of trees not far from the shack, and then Jefferson and Burr are on the ground. Ha. Fuck them.

Lafayette's car is parked a few hundred yards away, and Angelica unlocks the doors remotely. She orders him to sit in the car, which he does, and then she grabs him a couple of blood bags from a cooler in the trunk. The first sip of blood is like nectar on his tongue, and he sighs. He can feel his chest already starting to knit together the frayed ends of skin left in the stake’s wake.

He drains two bags, and he's going for his third when Lafayette bursts through the trees with John and Herc in tow. Alex pulls the passenger door shut, and Angelica climbs in the back. John and Herc pile in after her, and Lafayette slides smoothly into the driver's seat. He tosses Alex’s daylight ring, and Alex catches it. Slipping the band back onto his finger is an indescribable relief.

Lafayette peels out of the clearing with a screech of the tires, and then they're gone. 


	15. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> These past few weeks have been terribly busy, and I've been confronted with a great amount of change and a barge of unexpected emotion that have made it altogether difficult to write recently. 
> 
> That being said, I'm certainly not abandoning this story. Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with this.

The silence in the car is heavy and tense. John isn't sure he should be the one to break it. From the looks Lafayette gave them while they were confronting Jefferson and Burr, it's pretty clear that he stepped over a line. He  _ was  _ supposed to shut up and not draw attention to himself. Oh, well. Following directions has never been one of his strong suits.

At least Alex is alright. Although, that’s an overstatement.

Alex looks terrible. John can only see a bit of him from the backseat of Lafayette's car, but he looked at Alex straight-on when they were in the cabin. His skin is fiery red and blistered, like he's fried in the sun for days on end with vervain-infused sunscreen, and there was a goddamn  _ wooden stake _ in his chest until a few minutes ago. John can't imagine that he looks okay already, vampire healing powers be damned. And Alex hasn't eaten in days. There's one or two empty blood bags stuffed in the cup holder next to Alex's seat, but is that really enough to make up for a week's worth of meals? John doesn't think so.

“So,” Alex says. Of course, he's the one to do it. Break the silence. He loves to talk. John is glad that Jefferson didn't beat that out of him, although he's worried. Things are different now. Right? John's admittedly not familiar with how life works after significant others are kidnapped, tortured, and rescued. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Did you think I would not?” Lafayette says immediately. There's an edge to his words, but John doesn't know Laf well enough to decipher the underlying meaning.

“I hoped you would,” Alex says. Whatever Lafayette is implying, Alex is ignoring.

Lafayette makes a little noise of displeasure, but he doesn't press it.

“I wasn’t hoping for anyone except you and Angelica,” Alex continues. Okay, now John knows what Alex is getting at, and it makes him bristle in annoyance.

“Yeah, well, I sure as hell wasn't staying behind,” John interjects. Angelica places a hand on his wrist in warning. Angelica has become a surprising ally over the past week; John didn't know she cared so much about Alex. But then, from one perspective, he did save her life. Or her unlife. That car crash would've killed her if he hadn't fed on her beforehand, that's John's point.

Alex whips around in his seat, and John is pleased to see that his face is almost completely healed. “You have no concept of how close you were to dying tonight, do you?” he snaps. “You wanted me to fucking bite you, you back-talked fucking Burr. Fucking hell, John, do you not realize that you were  _ by far  _ the weakest creature out there tonight, and that includes me in the state I was in?”

John feels stung. The  _ weakest?  _ Does Alex really think he's so helpless? Well, fuck him. John isn't some helpless tag along; he can take care of himself. He would've fucking stabbed Burr with his stake if the creep had taken a single step toward him.

“Alexander,” Lafayette says warningly, even though he probably shares Alex's sentiment. Stupid fucking vampires. Think they're so much better than humans - which, apparently, isn't even what John is.

Herc clears his throat from where he's sitting on John's left. John expected him to stay silent for the whole ride, which would've been the least he could do after his involvement with what happened to Alex. John gets fired up all over again at him making the slight sound.  _ God, _ he's so fucking angry right now.

“John was never in any danger,” Herc says quietly. Angelica's hand tightens over John's wrist.

Alex makes a noise of disbelief, but he doesn't argue with Herc. John isn't as forgiving.

“What,  _ you _ were protecting me?” John snaps.

“Of course I was,” Herc says, sounding vexed. “You can be as mad at me for… for what I did as you like, but you're still my best friend, John. I wasn't about to let anyone hurt you.”

“For what you did,” John repeats harshly. “Herc, you turned someone over to be tortured. That's not just a tiny mistake. Alex could've  _ died.” _

“Alex should've died a long time ago,” Herc mutters, although if John could here it, there's no doubt that the other three in the car could hear it, what with their vampiric hearing.

“I actually did die a long time ago,” Alex says. He's not looking back at them anymore; Herc's comments roll off him like water off a duck's back.

“Should've stayed dead,” says Herc.

“Alright, that's enough,” Angelica interjects. John is a little surprised that she is the one to put her foot down first. “Herc, we get it; you're anti-vamp. That's fine. We do hurt and kill people sometimes. But no one deserves to be tortured like Jefferson tortured Alex. Vampires don't do  _ that  _ to their victims, when we even have victims.” She motions to the blood bags in the cup holder to emphasize her point.

An awkward silence washes over the car.

“Well, now that we have covered that,” Lafayette says to break it up, “there are more important matters to discuss.”

“Such as?” Herc asks. For all his anti-vampire rhetoric, he sure is quick to respond to Lafayette.

“Aaron Burr's interest in John,” Alex says. “What is this I keep hearing about doppelgängers? It feels like the new buzzword.”

“I called Adrienne a few days ago,” Lafayette tells him, “and by her explanation, doppelgängers are a byproduct of witches achieving immortality.”

“What?”

“We’re genetic copies of the witch who created us - and that witch creates us accidentally in order to become immortal,” John says, hoping that he remembers this correctly. Herc stares at him, but John ignores the look. He's still pissed off.

“Basically, doppelgängers die so that the immortal witch never has to. They are commonly used in spellwork as well,” Lafayette summarizes.

“Yeah, I'd imagine they're large deposits of untapped magic,” Alex mumbles. John wonders what Alex knows about witchcraft, and how he knows it, because that's a conclusion John couldn't have made it to without Lafayette's full explanation. “But what makes us think John is one?”

“Besides Burr's commentary? He looks like Jack,” Lafayette says. The mysterious friend Jack again. Or boyfriend. John wants to ask about their relationship, especially since Alex goes suspiciously quiet at the mention of Jack, but he doesn't want to have that conversation in front of anyone else. It's weird, though. What if Jack and Alex did have a thing? Then John's with his relative's old flame. And what if that's the only reason Alex is interested in John? He isn't Jack, no matter how much they may look alike. They were raised in different times; they are different men.

At least, John is pretty sure that's how it works.

“Doppelgängers aside,” Angelica says, “why was Burr so willing to change things up?” That's a good point; Burr seems like a slippery character. His motives are important somehow.

“I do not think we can set the doppelgängers aside to answer that question,” Lafayette says, although John can almost  _ hear _ the frown that's on his face. “I believe whatever Burr is plotting involves a doppelgänger.”

“That makes sense,” Angelica agrees after a beat, “and he'd try to get rid of Alex so that Alex wouldn't be around to protect John.” Oh. That  _ does  _ make sense.

“The only question I have is why did James and Jefferson help him? They're hunters. Jefferson's a hardcore hunter. They don't make deals with vampires,” says Alex. John doesn't know much about supernatural hunters beyond the obvious. Which doesn't help answer Alex's question.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Herc suggests. John has the urge to smack him. It's years and years of friendship that keep him in check. That, and they have to sit next to each other for two and a half more hours. “None of them seem to like  _ you.” _

“Mystifying,” Alex mutters sarcastically. “And here I thought everyone loved me.”

_ “I  _ love you,” John says, and it's meant to come out playfully, but he chokes somewhere along the way, and the car plunges into yet another uncomfortable silence in the wake of his words. Alex doesn't say it back; John can't decide whether that's a good sign or a bad one. On one hand, he's worried he's in way deeper than Alex, but at least he's not being lied to.

They don't recover from this silence, much to John's displeasure. The most anyone says for the rest of the trip is when Alex asks Angelica to hand him another blood bag.

They drop off Herc as soon as they cross into Liberty. Alex and Lafayette seem as eager to get rid of him as he is to scramble out of Lafayette’s car. John's going to have to have another serious conversation with him. Fucking great. He'll have to wait until he cools down a bit.

Lafayette parks in front of his house next, but John doesn't get out. He checked his phone during the hours of quiet; his father is beyond pissed with him for taking off, and Marth will probably murder him on sight. He wants one more goodnight sleep before he dies. There has to be a spare room in vampire mansion for him to crash in, right? Then again, vampires don't sleep, so they may not have any beds.

“Do y'all have beds?” John blurts out. His filter stopped working hours ago, fight him.

Alex snorts, but it's Angelica who says, “That's an odd way to ask if you can crash at our place. Why wouldn't we have beds?”

“You don't sleep?” Now John is confused.

“But beds are comfortable for more than sleeping,” Angelica says. “I like to read in bed. Under a comfortable blanket.”

“Laf likes to have sex in bed,” Alex says - and oh, okay, that one was kind of obvious, and now John feels like idiot. But wait a second-

“Where do you have sex?” John asks just as Angelica does. John thinks it would be exhausting and/or uncomfortable to never have sex in bed, but he doesn't actually know. That one time with Mattie makes him an expert on nothing but his own sexuality. In fact, he's probably more confused about sex now. Whatever.

“Wherever I want,” Alex says loftily, but Lafayette undermines the comment by muttering, “Alexander has laid no one since the turn of the century.”

Angelica laughs at Lafayette's roast, and it's infectious enough that they all join in, even Alex. John never asks to stay over directly, but Lafayette doesn't ask; he just drives away before they can be spotted by John's family. They'd probably call the cops if they noticed a strange car rolling down the street at this time of night - and Marth probably  _ is  _ still awake.

Thank God for Lafayette. John'll deal with their wrath tomorrow.

When they get to the mansion, Angelica and Lafayette head inside right away, but Alex loiters, so John does, too. He has the feeling that they're on the cusp of something, but he can't put his finger on it, can't explain it. All he can do is wait for Alex to say something. To say anything.

Alex stares at the sky. Even out here, with all the trees, the stars are visible. John's never had much interest in stars, but they're pretty enough. They seem far away, though. Maybe too far.

“John,” Alex says eventually. John doesn't know how long they've been standing there when he finally says something. This past week, all the traveling and worrying, shot his concept of time right in the foot.

“Yeah?”

“You scared the hell out of me today,” Alex says.

_ “I  _ scared  _ you?  _ You were the one in chains, Alex.” Not this again. John doesn't want to have this conversation, but it's unavoidable.

“You have no regard for your own safety! You want me to bite you all the time! It's not heroic or romantic or whatever you think it is, John; it's fucking frightening because - and this hasn't seemed to occur to you yet - you  _ can  _ die!” Alex sounds fucking hysterical.

John can take care of himself, whether Alex believes it or not. He’s mortal, he gets that, but it isn’t like he wants to die. He doesn't think of himself as heroic or romantic or  _ whatever,  _ as Alex seems to think he does. He went after Alex because even though it's only been a few weeks and he probably  _ shouldn't,  _ he loves Alex. There's no avoiding that fact.

As for the biting thing… being masochistic doesn't make him suicidal. Not necessarily. But maybe he should consider that Alex can hurt him, even though he doesn't think it'll happen. He should probably start a conversation about boundaries, too, about Alex's boundaries. That seems like the adult thing to do. But Alex is pissed off right now, so maybe it should wait. Until tomorrow, at least.

“I'm sorry,” John says diplomatically. He's not really sorry for going with Lafayette and Angelica - but he  _ is  _ sorry for worrying Alex, as unnecessary as he thinks the feeling is. Alex can't control how he feels.

“You aren't,” Alex says, sounding defeated. Like all the fight that'd been layered over his outburst evaporated all of a sudden.

John wants to protest, but he can't find the words for it. Or the energy. This conversation is far from over, but it's for later, tomorrow at the earliest.

They'll deal with it then.


End file.
